The Mentalist Prompts
by Little-Firestar84
Summary: One-shots, drabbles and flash-fics based on prompts on the Mentalist Prompts community on Livejournal and not only, from romance to angst, from hurt to comfort, from Jisbon to Grisby, from the K to the M rated
1. Self Defense

Disclaimer: last time I checked, I didn't own the Mentalist. too bad

Spoiler alert: none

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SELF DEFENSE

She isn't going to lie to herself; she has often fantasized about this, when she was all alone at home, in her bed in the middle of the night, playing with herself, or, sometimes, while merely looking at him, faking sleep on his couch. She'll not tell such a lie. She has thought many times about Patrick Jane pushing her against the wall, cornering her between said surface and his body, about lips battling for domination, about limbs entangled, hands everywhere, busy wandering and exploring and finding, skin against skin, shared heat of passion in a place nothing like that should happen- but what's more exciting than an illicit affair at the office, with a person you shouldn't have sex with for any reason at all, in your (not locked) office itself?

But this is what it is, a dream, a fantasy, and, as handsome, gentleman and fascinating and alluring and hot and sexy and smart and fun as he may be (whenever he allows himself to), he is Patrick Jane, former Psych and sworn enemy to Red John, the man who can't let it of the past and has dedicated his life to kill in cold blood and with a gory torture his nemesis, and she is still a cop. She has made the mistake of allowing something like that once, with her mentor, and a piece of her died that day, she is still paying the consequences, her soul will always pays the consequences, and she can't do it. She can't help him. She can't stop him, as much as she'd like to. It took her too long to build those walls around her heart, and Patrick Jane is menacing to destroy them. She can't allow it. She has to think of her, for once. She has spent her entire life thinking about the needs of others, and she has always ended hurt and broken. But now she no longer can. Now she has to think of herself, now she has to protect herself, because, if the walls will fall down, she'll fall as well, and it will be her end, she knows it, she is aware of it, even sure.

It doesn't matter if Jane can't understand it, if he doesn't want see it, doesn't want to understand it, if he doesn't give a damn about her, too selfish to allow himself the luxury of thinking of others for once in his life.

Of course, if he could actually think about others and being not so selfish, they'd not be here in the first place. His family wouldn't be dead. Red John wouldn't be enraged with him. They'd never meet. They'd never end up with her pushed pressed between a wall and his body, both almost naked.

They'd not be about to have sex, to fuck (because there's no way what they are going to do is making love) if his family hadn't died, she realizes as his wedding band shines, enlightened by the lamp. And that's why they'll never make love. He doesn't love her, as much as she'd like to, as much as she dreams of it, he can't love her, not when he belongs to someone else, mind, body and soul. Patrick Jane belongs to Angela Ruskin. Patrick Jane belongs to Charlotte Jane. Patrick Jane belongs to Red John. Patrick Jane belongs to vendetta and hate.

There's no place for her in his life. There's no place for her in his heart, mind and soul. She is a pawn in his hands, a mean to an end, like the rest of the world, like all. Only, apparently, she is good enough to warm his bed at night (figuratively speaking), she is good enough to have been chosen to help him to alleviate the pent up sexual tension, to fulfill his sexual needs. She is just a person to use, and, now, he'd want for here to be a body to use as well.

After all, what does he care? He knows she wants for it to happen, he probably thinks it will be less like using her since she is willing to be used in the first place, ready to give up control, to give up her very soul, her body to him to use it as he prefers to fulfill his needs and hers as well.

But, as much as she has always felt pushed towards the walking enigma that's Jane, she knows that one day he'll die, with a blade or in a maximum security prison with a needle in his arm, she doesn't know how yet, but she knows he'll die nevertheless, and, right now, she'd rather prefer seeing him killed by Red John or any other killer he has the brilliant idea of annoy. If he'll die first, before his nemesis, she'll not have to arrest him, and if, or when, she'll have to arrest him, a part of her will die.

So, even if he trails kisses on her whole body, her clothes almost completely removed,, and she feels like burning, even if there's nothing she'd rather have than a night with him, even only just one, she stops him, because, at least, this way, once it will be over with, it will hurt a little less, at least she'll not torture herself with the memories, with the what ifs and the buts.

It's just self defense, she tells herself as she runs away from her office, her discharged clothes in her arms, crying, leaving behind Jane, abandoning him to sit alone and in the dark in a corner of her office, at loss of words, hands covering his face, running through his hair while silently sobbing, tears running on features signed by too much sufferance.

He thought she could save him. He thought he could make her happy, keep all his promises. Apparently, he has been wrong. He is alone in the dark again, she is gone and he has ruined yet another chance at life, at happiness. He can't help it, everything he does, it's a mistake, only, this time this particular mistake will not have repercussions only on him.

He has broken Lisbon's heart, and he is not sure she'll recover so easily. He's not sure she'll recover at all. He isn't sure if THEY will recover. He isn't sure if they'll be able to salvage whatever semblance of friendship, or relationship, they have left. He'll not mind (not that much) if she'll not be his lover, he'll not mind if she'll prefer to not share her life with him. Right now, he knows he wants her back in his life, even if she is gone from just few minutes, right now he needs he back because she is the only one worth living for, worth fighting for, worth saving.

She is his saving grace. She is his everything, and he'll even accept if she'll just want him back as a friend. Right now, he could even go with just coworker. It would be already enough, because he needs her, she is the only one who can save him from himself; from the ghost he has turned himself into, from Red John. It's just a matter of self-preservation, a self-defense against the evils of the worlds, a matter of being there for her, no matter what, and saving himself in the process, defending her and defending him in the process, a bit like being in a relationship, in a marriage.

He needs her back, and he'll do whatever it takes to win her, to take Teresa Lisbon back. This time, he'll not screw this.


	2. White freesia, roses and tulips with ivy

Disclaimer: last time I checked, I didn't own the Mentalist. too bad

Spoiler alert: hints to season 1, season 2 finale, and to season 3.1. and 3.3

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DREAMS

Even before Red John was gone, done and dealt with, Teresa Lisbon the woman had given up on Patrick Jane the man.

She had never denied, to herself at least, that there was something deep between them, something that, during the long years spent at each other's side, has changed, developed. At first, it was only sexual attraction. She didn't know him; she had heard stories and red his profile, but they had never met in person, and when they did, as soon as they shook hands, she felt electricity running through her body, heat in her lower abdomen, she felt like she could only look into magnetic blue eyes, like dragged to him by an unknown force. All the pictures she had seen where from his other, old life, and if possible, Patrick Jane had become even more sexy, hot and handsome after he had left the show business. That's when she started dreaming of Patrick Jane, of dreams of the adult variety, and she couldn't care less. They were just that, dreams, and besides, whatever was going on was just one-sided and merely physical.

Time passed, and a year into their work-related relationship, one day, she realized she was no longer dreaming of Jane and Lisbon the lovers, but of Patrick and Teresa living happily ever after, and the fact that she wasn't scared but happy was enough to scare her. Jane was (or at least, that was what she thought) was a good man, happy with his life and was one of the few people able to make her smile even when she didn't feel like it. Besides, it had been so long since the last time she had been in love…

Then, Jane started to be more honest with her, to open up more with her, to confide her, and what she found out, what he told her, not only was scaring her, but… Lisbon was honestly terrified by the revelations he had suddenly decided to make. If, on one side, she knew she could handle him being hospitalized for what had happened (hell, she could understand why he had been hospitalized in the first place) what she couldn't handle was knowing what his plans for Red John were, how he was planning of using the CBI to identify and find him, then catching him on his own, cutting him, letting him dying slowing while torturing the killer, seeing him bleeding out, dying in the same way Angela had died.

She couldn't believe she had been that stupid and naïve to believe Jane was happy with his life. Jane wasn't happy; Jane fakes his own happiness like he faked everything else. She wasn't making him happy; she wasn't his reason to live, or only to wake up. And, with that realization, the nightmares started. In her tumultuous sleep, she saw Jane dead, Jane in prison sentenced to life, Jane facing the death penalty, Jane killing Red John in the same way he had told her he was planning to, and her, in the background, on her knees, crying desperate, begging him to stop. But Patrick Jane never stopped. That's when, usually, she woke up covered in sweat and tears, and gave up on sleep for the night, allowing herself to "enjoy" a cup of tea while thinking of him, of what she had once whished for them and how those things now weren't going to become true.

And then, then all hell broke loose, on the day Patrick Jane met, again, the self-acclaimed psych Kristina Frye. At first, what hurt Lisbon was the jealousy, knowing that she no longer was the main woman (alive) in his life, that he was searching for the company of another woman, one who was so similar to him, one who could give him the peace he needed to have, one that could give him herself to him, emotionally (she didn't have so much on her, but Lisbon was sure that the psych didn't have as much garbage as her) and physically. Then, Red John took her, of for the stunt she had played live on TV in the same way Jane had seven years prior or because she was stealing the attention of the serial killer form his "heart's desire", Jane himself, they didn't know. What they knew, what she knew was that, once Frye vanished, Jane started to alienate himself, both physically and emotionally, from her, from the team. He insisted on pushing them away, he told them to give up on him, that he wasn't for them to get too close to him, that he poisoned and killed whatever and whoever he touched. To try to stop her from getting too close, to avoid the temptation to be at her side even only as a friend, he had even arrived to push her in another's man arms, the ones of billionaire Walt Mashburn, and it was in the instant she gave up to Mashburn's advances and allowed herself a night of pure pleasure and liberty with him that she took a decision: Patrick Jane didn't want for her to help him. He didn't want her in his life. There was no point in keep trying to win him or his trust over. So, she simply decided it was time to give up on Patrick Jane the man, and stopping believing to her damn childish fantasies of them having a happily ever after. After that event, she stopped dreaming about him at all, she stopped having the lust-filled adult dreams, the fairytale dreams and even the nightmares.

Then, few months after her one night stand with the billionaire, Robert Elliot entered into the picture, a picture she didn't even know she was trying to take in the first place. Bobby was a detective of the Sacramento Police Department, Robbery and Homicide division, on the book, predictable, had studied law, came from a normal and good family, no tragic past, no crazy serial killer after him, no plains for a personal and bloody vendetta; he was even the kind of man she usually fell for on the physical side, dark, tall, handsome, well-built, muscular, athletic and with the most gorgeous pair of dark hair. Robert Elliot was her kind of man, had all the things she looked for in her "charming prince", as much as this definition, in her case, was wrong. he was picture perfect, their life together was picture perfect, only… only, on the day he proposed, getting on his knee in the middle of the crowded restaurant and famous and popular restaurant where they were having dinner (so cliché, and she hated clichés) she had felt completely empty. She wasn't feeling anything, especially not happiness. She wasn't going to say that, following the old advice saying "close your eyes, and tell me who's waiting for you at the altar", she saw herself walking down the aisle towards Robert, because it was, once again, Jane. She knew it wasn't right staying with Elliot and dreaming of a future with Patrick Jane, but in the last months she had started to dream and hoping again… but Red John was gone, and Jane was still there, doing his best to make her happy, to make her smile. The hope came back, and with it, the pleasant dreams, the happy dreams, but how could she confess to Robert that she kept dreaming of Patrick Jane putting a ring to her finger? How could she tell him he was only a rebound, when they've been together for more than two years?

She couldn't confess to Robert that she had used him, so she decided to be like Jane had once been. She faked it, she faked her happiness while they were arranging the wedding, while they were planning their honeymoon in South America, while they started to prepare their house, and not even one time, for the first few weeks, Robert questioned why, at the end, he was the one doing the whole planning, taking all the decisions, picking up whatever they needed. She didn't have anything to do with it; she didn't need a constant reminder that she was marrying the wrong guy because she couldn't handle breaking his heart; as the day got closer, though, they started to argue. They screamed. They said bad, ugly, terrible things to each other, he accused her of cheating on him with Jane, she, of course, denied, but he still left slamming the door of the place he had choose at his back, furious with rage.

The day after, a dozen of red roses arrived at her office, and for the whole week, each day, Elliot kept sending her the same flowers in hope of redeeming himself. He texted her, he called her, left messages for her, saying he was sorry, that he didn't mean to tell her those things, that he didn't really thought she could cheat on him with a man like Patrick Jane, he kept begging for forgiveness because it hadn't been him talking, but the stress for the wedding. And then, again and again, he kept telling her he knew she wasn't cheating on him with Jane, because Jane was he was, and there was no way she could want him, and by the way, had she received the dozen of red roses? He thought it was the best gift of ever, since he knew she loved them so much… She deleted the messages and the texts. She hung up on him every time. She thrown away the flowers every time they arrived- she hated red roses anyway, and he didn't even knew it; he didn't even bother to remember such a simple thing. Then, one morning, as soon as she walked into her office, she saw it, standing on her desk. It was a bouquet of flowers, of her favorite flowers: roses, freesia and tulips, all white, with few branches of ivy. It was marvelous, it was perfect and she couldn't believe that Elliot had remembered and that he had chosen such an honest way to beg for forgiveness…

"I hope that they'll make you feel better" with the flowers in her hands, her nose buried in the roses to imprint the scent to her memory, she half-turned, smiling shy and blushing, to look in the eyes at the man who had whispered the words on her ear, still feeling his breath hot on her neck, she felt electricity running through her body, heat in her lower abdomen, she felt like she could only look into magnetic blue eyes, like dragged to him by an unknown force, like that first time. "I remembered last year, during the Relay case, when we were questioning Jacqueline, the saleswoman at the Conrad florist. You saw a bouquet just like this one, and, when we were finished, you asked for it to be delivered at your place. Of course, you did so only when you had made sure I was already out, giving you my back, sitting in the car." He paused, smiling, and pinched the bridge of her nose like she was a little kid "Besides, I know you hate red roses. You can't stand clichés, like getting on the knee in a mundane, popular, crowded and fashionable restaurant to propose"

"Oh, you know me so well, don't you?" she laughed for the first time in months, feeling like a little child, free in her spirit. It had been so long since last time she had been honestly happy, she merely remembered it, laughing was even hurting a little…

Jane left his spot at her side, smiling and grinning, hands in his pockets, but, at the last second, before walking past her door, he stopped, and, unsure, turned to look at Lisbon, with a light in his eyes that was a mix of sadness, hope, regret, passion, love… " I'm not sure I know everything there is to know about you, Teresa, but I'm looking forward to" he told her, a bit hesitant, his fingers were restless, betraying how nervous he was "after all, we still have time, right?" Her breath died in her throat as she heard his tone, as their eyes met. He wasn't joking. He wasn't smiling. He wasn't full of himself or sure of anything. He was begging, he was scared, and all she wanted to do was kissing him senseless and tell him everything was all right, everything was going to be all right, that they were going to have all the time in the world…

But she knew it was too soon. Red John had just been killed by a SWAT team. Jane had just started to mourn his family properly. But he knew what he wanted. He knew where he wanted to go, where he wanted to be but couldn't, not yet. He was asking, begging her to wait for him there, to meet him halfway, though.

She had never denied him anything, and she wasn't going to start now. She was glad to oblige. After all, he had given her hope, and this time, she knew she was going to be rewarded.


	3. Socks

Disclaimer: last time I checked, I didn't own the Mentalist. too bad. I hoped to get them for Christmas, but, instead, I got a 10 days vacancy in Rome later this winter...

Anyway-these stories are based on prompt by The Mentalist Prompt on LJ, but, incase you'd like to commision me something, I'd not mind. I've always been of the idea that a story is made in 95% of hard work, and 5%inspiration. So, all I need is YOU to inspire me with a word or a quote, the title of a song or of a movie, and I'll be glad to work on it!

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SLEEPLESS LEGS

From his couch he heard it all. He heard Lisbon coming back (at eleven pm), he heard her retreating to the safety of her closed (and maybe locked) office, and he heard a noise connected to long lost memories, almost forgotten, something that made him smiles…the noise of a pair of uncomfortable high heeled shoes thrown against a piece of furniture or a wall. Angela… she was so used to walk barefoot or with low and almost inexistent heels that every time she wore high shoes (because she had to go somewhere with _him_) as soon as she got home she thrown them in a corner once passed the door. Apparently, sharing his late wife's dislike for such an instrument of torture, _his Lisbon _did the same.

He kept smiling, because, really, how could he not, imagining the always compose Lisbon doing something like that?

And besides… why was she wearing high heels in the first place? He had seen her just once wearing them with that marvelous long dress that did quite a number on her curves, and never, ever at work. And why had she come back to the CBI at such an unholy hour in the first place? And why was the light turned off if she was inside her office? He couldn't keep pretending to sleep without knowing the answer, so, even if curiosity killed the cat, it got the better out of him, and so he decided to tip-toe where his secret heart's desire was, and once he finally managed to open the door…

Here she was, Lisbon, enlightened only by the lights coming from the bullpen, sleeping on her couch with arms crossed and her legs and feet extremely awake and upset. He knew that syndrome of the "sleepless legs" or whatever it was called wasn't unusual in people with a high level of stress, but Jane wondered if it wasn't for another reason as well. Maybe, her legs were stressed after a day in that little black dress (that did a completely different number on her curves), with those high heels, and those high socks… wait, no, those weren't high socks, because what Lisbon was wearing, what she had discharged in the corner near her shoes were a pair of holds-up. When did it happen? When did Teresa Lisbon, Senior Agent to the SCU of the CBI, the cop always ready to enter into action, started to wear holds-up?

With an evil and malicious grin, he sat on the couch, and, her feet in his lap, he started to rub and massage them, receiving a guttural moan of appreciation as answer to his ministrations, and an answer that made his grin only got bigger. She was always so tense, partly (mostly) because of him. Massaging her feet was the least he could do to repay her of everything, from helping him to saving him, to covering up for him to defending him, and so on. And it wasn't only that, it wasn't only because of the job. It was because of everything. She was his saving grace, his guiding light, his reason to live, she was his everything and she didn't even know it. She couldn't know it, not yet, maybe never.

"You know Teresa; one day, when we'll be finally together with Red John out of our lives, you'll be pregnant with a beautiful daughter of ours with your hair and my eyes, and I promise you, I'll never allow you to wear such socks. If nor for just me, that it is." He whispered with bright eyes and smile to the sleeping Teresa, imagining the scene for what felt the 100th time of the day. "Then, I'll spend my whole time massaging your feet and calves. You know, I'm starting to understand why so many males have the fetish of feet; yours are so perfect and sexy, even is petite, like you…"

He released her legs and feet, and once stood, he gave her a quick and sweet, lingering kiss on the forehead, even if the temptation of waking her up with a real, proper kiss of love was strong. "Sleep well, my love. I'll always be here to protect and to save you." He paused, and decided to humor himself and her se well "And, obviously, I'll always be here to massage your feet too."

"I'll always be here for you too, Patrick." but he didn't herd her answer. He couldn't hear it yet, but one day, she was going to tell him.


	4. Key Moment

Disclaimer: last time I checked, I didn't own the Mentalist. too bad. I hoped to get them for Christmas, but, instead, I got a 10 days vacancy in Rome later this winter...

Anyway-these stories are based on prompt by The Mentalist Prompt on LJ, but, incase you'd like to commision me something, I'd not mind. I've always been of the idea that a story is made in 95% of hard work, and 5%inspiration. So, all I need is YOU to inspire me with a word or a quote, the title of a song or of a movie, and I'll be glad to work on it!

note: first grisby!

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WHERE YOU STAY She had fallen for Wayne as soon as their eyes met, on her first day as a rookie with the CBI, and even if the feeling had been mutual, it had taken them more than a year to do something about it. Before she called thing off between them, they had been lovers in a secret and illicit office affair for over six months, but right from the beginning, right from day one, even before they started it, she had always questioned what they had.

That was two years ago, and now, after more than a year spent at Craig's side as his girlfriend first and his fiancé later, now it's her wedding day.

It's her wedding day, she is marrying Craig and from the day the announced it Wayne has told only nice and good things to them. He has been happy for them, has told them "Congratulations" with a smile, shaking hands with the groom to be and hugging awkwardly her for a brief instant. She has never questioned what she has with Craig, not until now, not until today, the very day she is getting married to him.

Now she is in front of a mirror with her long, princess-like white dress on, flowers in hand, and the only thing she can do is crying, with a panicking and embarrassed Lisbon, maid of honor, at one side, and Patrick Jane gently patting her on the shoulder at the other, with a knowing smile.

She has let it go of Wayne because she valued her carrier more than him and them. He let it go of her because he loved her more than anything, because he wanted to see her happy, and he thought that, between the job and Craig, she was.

But happy she isn't. She simply wore a mask to cover every emotion, every night she keeps crying herself to sleep, to cover how miserable she feels, how alone and sad she is now that Wayne is no longer in her life.

Craig doesn't listen to her; he doesn't know what she likes. Craig talks and thinks about his career, he would never leave the job for her (Wayne, on the other hand…). Craig wants the doll, the trophy wife, while Wayne loved the woman she was, he loved her for what and who she was, and not for what he wanted her to be.

She knows she doesn't deserve Wayne any longer or maybe just yet, but Craig doesn't deserve her, someone like her.

She knows that, on your wedding day, you're supposed to see the light, that is the moment everything stands clear, all your doubts vanishing… but she can't still believe that it's on hers and Craig's wedding day that she is seeing the light on her relationship with Wayne.

Her key moment, her turning point, her moment of clarity, her standing point, the moment when she sees the light and understands what she really wants and how much she is ready to fight for it, how much she is ready to give up for it.

That's when she cries out in happiness and not sufferance.


	5. Episode Title

Disclaimer: last time I checked, I didn't own the Mentalist. too bad. I hoped to get them for Christmas, but, instead, I got a 10 days vacancy in Rome later this winter...

Anyway-these stories are based on prompt by The Mentalist Prompt on LJ, but, incase you'd like to commision me something, I'd not mind. I've always been of the idea that a story is made in 95% of hard work, and 5%inspiration. So, all I need is YOU to inspire me with a word or a quote, the title of a song or of a movie, and I'll be glad to work on it!

* * *

RED BADGE

It wasn't supposed to happen. She wasn't supposed to get involved, any of them, actually.

His plan has always been perfect, clear in his mind. He was going to face Red John. He was going to cut him open. He was going to watch him bleeding out, dying slowly and painfully. It was that, or either dying trying.

But Lisbon, she wasn't supposed to have known about his meeting with the "enemy". She wasn't supposed to run in front of him to save him from a bullet. Lisbon wasn't supposed to take a bullet for him.

Pure of heart, angelic, sweet and caring Teresa Lisbon wasn't supposed to take a bullet for HIM, wasn't supposed to be in an OR risking her own life.

He was. He was the one who had to be there, in her place, not sitting on a plastic chair while waiting for a doctor, any doctor, to exit and tell them something, anything.

Well, not anything. He'd go to kill himself, and this time he'd succeed, if she'd die because of him.

Well, then, maybe, just maybe, he should seriously start thinking about how to actually doing it, in a way no one could save him – not slowly, so. But he should suffer, though, because of all the sufferance he has inflected on the others, Lisbon included (especially Lisbon), because there's no way she is going to survive this one. She can't. There was so much blood…

He can't forget it, doesn't want to. She was at his feet, her chest filled with at least a couple of gunfire wounds, and the blood was covering her clothes. No, he corrects himself; the blood wasn't covering her clothes. It was soaking them. And, as soon as he has taken her in his arms, it has soaked his ones as well.

While he has hold Teresa in his arms… Lisbon was dying, he knew it, and he was on his knees, crying and sobbing desperate, as desperate as never before, but she still held to him like for dear life, she has still smiled at him, whispering sweet nothings into his ear, the sweetest nothings and the sweetest words of love. She has waited for Red John to be dead, killed by SWAT, to confess him of her feelings, to tell him that she hoped he'd give them a chance, that he was her heart's desire, that he was the only one making her happy. But, of course, while she was dying in her love's arms, she couldn't help but think of him, telling him it wasn't his fault, to forgive and forget and to move on with his life, to avoid thinking of her, was something bad going to happen to her…

She wanted for him to promise. And didn't want to, but he had when Teresa refused to leave his arms for the security of the ambulance, so he had.

And now, sitting on a plastic chair in a waiting room waiting and hoping for a doctor to leave and tell them what is going on, he hates himself for this, because he has lied. He knows that he'll never move on, forgive and forget if something will happen to Teresa. He knows he'll always blame himself if she'll die. He knows that he'll eventually kill himself put of guilt. He hates that he'll have to break his promise, but he really can't help it.

Besides, there's no afterlife, the "soul" is only energy, so, it's not like she'll find out, right? Right…

"Where's the family of Teresa Lisbon?" A middle age man leaves the room, covered in blood, and Jane trembles, seeing so much blood, and he knows… she is gone. He collapses into tears as the man gives him Teresa's badge, red, covered in blood as well. He doesn't see the smile, sure of her whereabouts… "She is fine. She'll recover fully. She is lucky; apparently, she has something to fight for."

Jane cries again, this time out of relief. Teresa has fought and he is free from Red John; she has won and he is alive; she'll be fine and he'll be free; she loves him and he loves her.

He can finally allow himself to do something he has never done in the last ten years of his life. He can start thinking of a tomorrow of happiness and joy and love and of a family, with her.


	6. 24 hours a day, 7 days a week

Disclaimer: last time I checked, I didn't own the Mentalist. too bad. I hoped to get them for Christmas, but, instead, I got a 10 days vacancy in Rome later this winter...

Anyway-these stories are based on prompt by The Mentalist Prompt on LJ, but, incase you'd like to commision me something, I'd not mind. I've always been of the idea that a story is made in 95% of hard work, and 5%inspiration. So, all I need is YOU to inspire me with a word or a quote, the title of a song or of a movie, and I'll be glad to work on it!

In particular, this one was the last prompt I had to work on for the Table I choose, and, I have to tell you, I worked on this for a good month before even coming close to like it...

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HELLISH WEEK

_Monday, 3 am_

Deep in her sleep, Lisbon was smiling content, dreaming of something, or, better yet, a certain golden, curled haired, blue eyed 41 years old someone, a fact that she'd deny until her death if necessary, especially with said man who had the annoying habit of reading her finding out all her darkest secrets, just like this one, something that couldn't be good for either of. She didn't feel like not hearing the end of this 'till the day she'd be dead, and she didn't feel like flatter his already too big ego with this information.

Patrick Jane definitely didn't need to know that she was repeating in her mind "Though to tame", one of her favorite romance novels by Diana Palmer, and he definitely didn't need to know that she kept imagining her as the female lead character and him as the male one. This dream was even worse than the ones she usually had about Jane. Dreams based on some leggy secretary (her) sleeping her way into her boss's heart (Jane's) was one thing, but a dream that was completely based on love, half-unrequited feelings (of love) was a bit hard to handle. Besides, at least she was always satisfied, marvelously spent and incredibly satisfied when she dreamt of being his secretary, but dreaming about Jane being a veterinarian and her his assistant, followed by a crazy ex and him thinking she wanted only to gain a few extra money from their almost romance while she couldn't help but be crazy about him…

No, Jane definitely didn't need to know she was still crazy about him or that she dreamt of him, them, as the characters of romance she would always deny to read and even to own. After all, they had tried dating after Red John. And it had been the worst date of her life (and of his, probably- it had been awkward, he hadn't been able to mutter a sole word, they didn't know what they were supposed to talk about, and he had decided to was supposed to order for her) so they decided to call it off, romantically speaking, of course. So, it was better if she kept it secret, and hoping it would, eventually, pass. In the meantime, dreaming about the most handsome man she had ever met wasn't going to hurt… too bad a phone, her phone, started to ring, forcing her to completely wake up, mad and unsatisfied and grumpy and agitated and uncomfortable because there wasn't anything worse than having to wake up in the middle of a good dream.

"Yeah?" she answered; she was grateful she had it on her nightstand and not in the kitchen. At least she didn't have to leave the bed and could still prolong her half-asleep state for a while...

"Miss Lisbon, I'm Officer Langley from the El Paso police department. We'd like to inform you we have a certain Mr. Patrick Jane in our custody and…"

At the mention of the El Paso police department Lisbon woke completely up. El Paso was where their last case had been, a case they had solved, even if Jane didn't like the husband as murderer and wanted to keep investigating, even if she had ordered him not to. El Paso was where the extremely rich and influent and powerful man Jane liked as the murderer (while she didn't) was living, the same man she told him to let him live…

"Lisbon, ehy, you, pass me the phone, I need to talk with her! Ehy, Lisbon, Lisbon, I have an excellent plan in motion just right now, all I need is…" Jane screamed in the background, trying to cover the voice of the young officer, who didn't seem to appreciate it.

"Like I was saying, Agent Lisbon" he continued, clearly annoyed by the blonde's behavior "we have Mr. Jane in custody, and he says he is with the CBI. He keeps saying he has been ordered to break in and trespassing into Mrs. Rosenberg's property… Mrs. Rosenberg has decided to let it go for this time, but we need someone to come and get him, to make sure he'll really leave…"

"Jane…" she hissed at low voice while pinching the bridge of her nose, eyes closed in frustration. How she could even think of liking such a man, was a mystery to her.

_Tuesday, 10.15 AM_

Lisbon was sitting at her desk, checking the last news form the forensic lab, enjoying the quiet. She was having a good, slow, case-less day, and Jane, like every time she jailed him out, was on his best behavior (even if she was well aware that it was going to last for less than a week, like usual). Besides, she was getting extra points since he was currently sleeping on her couch, allowing Lisbon to actually see and hear what the man could be up to….

She smiled without even trying to hide it, because Jane, on her couch, sleeping or pretending to be asleep with an arm on his stomach and the other behind his head as a pillow, with that peaceful expression printed on his face…. She didn't know how to call him. On one side, he was the exact replica of a Biblical angel, perfect blonde curls a bit wild, deep green/blue eyes, slightly tanned and incredibly in good shape (there was a bit, small part of her that actually, when paramedics and doctors damaged control injuries after a case, checked him out while he was shirtless, getting bands-aid on such a divine and sculptured and toned body, and if his upper torso was so perfect, she didn't even dare to think about was underneath all those clothes he so stubbornly wore…) for a man who passed almost his whole time sleeping or getting into troubles. On the other one, when he looked so calm and placid, she couldn't help but compare Jane to a kitty, a kitty she wanted to passage the scalp to, passing her fingers through such marvelous golden and soft blonde curls, and…. _Get a life, Teresa, and put an end to this damn crush of yours! _

"Lisbon, do you mind a word?" as soon as she heard the angry voice, Lisbon shivered and stopped to smile. Lifting her eyes to meet the ones of the person at the door, she started to feel her hands sweating, already well aware of what will happen once Madeline Hightower will start speaking.

"Of course ma'am, whatever you need" Lisbon braced herself for the assault to come. She knew that there was going to be hell. Even someone who hadn't known Patrick Jane had given life to yet another one of his antics would see that Hightower couldn't wait to lecture Lisbon. Hell, an idiot could say it from her eyes and the tone of her voice… she seemed a dragoness waiting to attack the village.

"Lisbon, I thought I've been clear, but for this time I'll be nice and I'll give you another warning. I don't care what Minelli used to do, I don't care if he didn't care of Jane, in order to close cases, messes around. I do care, Lisbon. We should be more professional, and we should behave differently, if we want to become the best investigative department of the State, right?"Lisbon nodded "Now, I don't need to remind you what will happen to you if I hear that Jane has been arrested once again or is in troubles or did something stupid, right?" Lisbon nodded again and, smiling, she left the office.

"Now, now, now, if we be dating, you'd be able to control me both on an emotional level through blackmail, and physically, always knowing when I am, so, my dear, I'd suggest…" Lisbon threw all the pens on her desk to Jane, who was still on the couch, smiling and laughing like an idiot. Taking care of Jane, controlling him, seemed often a job with a 24/7 shift. And, worst thing, she didn't even hate him. It was quite the contrary, actually.

_Wednesday, 2.30 pm_

_"Hear me, Agent Lisbon. If I know that any of your men, especially Mr. Jane, dared even of only thinking of approaching Mrs. Rosenberg without me, I'll make sure that in 24 hours time every one of you will be either in jail or checking park tickets!"_

"Sir, I can assure you I know how you feel, and I promise you that Mrs. Rosenberg will not receive further harassment from any member of the CBI." While talking over the phone with Mrs. Rosenberg's lawyer, Lisbon, frustrated and angry, massaged her forehead, pinching sometimes the edge of her nose. As much as she loved her job, there was a small voice in the back of her head telling her that being sent to check park tickets couldn't be that bad, considering what she was currently dealing with (Jane as wild and crazy as never before, always there begging for attention and help in his crazy schemes), while the other part was screaming she was crazy to even think about asking for such a job after all her hard work. There was another voice that laughed telling her she was going to be lucky if, considering how crazy and wild Jane had been recently, she still had to go to check on park tickets from now on. "I'm serious, It will not happen, ever again."

"_And please, tell Mr. Jane he has until tomorrow to give me back the emerald necklace he stole from Mr. Rosenberg's property!"_ As soon as the lawyer hanged up, ending the screaming performance (the kind of screaming performance Lisbon didn't like), she flew away from her office in direction of the brown leather piece of furniture known as Jane's couch, where said man was peacefully sleeping like a kitty waiting to purr as soon as an hand caressed his blonde curls…_Don't go there, Teresa, don't go there, you are here because you are hungry with him…_ "**JANE!" **she screamed hitting the side of the couch with her feet, with all her force.

"Lisbon, dear, how may I help you today?" He asked her, both hands behind his head with a charming smile.

"Jane, would you care to explain me why I received a call from Mrs. Rosenberg's lawyer?" She asked, crossed arms, trying to sound calm and quiet.

"Meh, I just told her that her husband was having an affair with the leggy blonde secretary, no big deal."

"And I guess you don't have to tell me something about an emerald necklace, right?"

"Of course I have, Lisbon" he answered, smiling, and taking her hands in his owns, making her happy: he was reasoning, finally "if we were dating, I'd spend all my money in emerald necklaces, because they do really complement your eyes. Tell you what, were we dating, I'd cover you in emerald jewels!"

"I'M TALKING ABOUT MRS. ROSENBERG'S NECKLACE, YOU IDIOT!"

"Oh, so, she wants it back? Well, sorry dear, but I really don't see why I should. First, emeralds don't go well with her hair and eyes color and her skin tone, horrible, really. Second, the gem is fake, the same gem that was insured for millions, the same gem Mr. Rosenberg wanted to sell, and sold without his wife knowing it, and even if I'm not a detective" he grinned "I'd say this is a motive!"

Still fuming, she retreated to the safety of her office, but stopped at the door, turning to pint an accusatory finger at the man, who was again pretending to be asleep on the couch. "And, Jane, last warning: don't mess with the super-riches!"

When she closed the door at her back, Jane laughed under his teeth, well aware that, sitting behind her desk, Lisbon was still as red as a tomato for his remarks about her and emeralds and them dating…

_Thursday, 11.28 am_

"Mr. Jane, I don't understand why you wanted us all here. Frankly, I've already wasted enough time because of you, and I don't care what your…boss… says, I'm not going to say here another minute!" Alarm and anger were mixed in Mrs. Rosenberg's voice as she spoke, crossed arms, indignant.

"Can't say I disagree with my client, _Miss Lisbon" _the lawyer hissed, underlined the word "miss", like to make Lisbon understand that she was going to lose her job for Jane's last stunt, if it was just up to him and his super-rich client, the widow of a personal friend of the governor of California. "I thought I've been clear when I told you that you and your men, especially _him, _weren't supposed to approach my client ever again!"

"Actually, I think you said to _Agent Lisbon" _Jane almost quoted the lawyer, but underlined her agent status, calm, quiet, and, frankly, a bit too happy for Lisbon's taste, who was freezing inside and shivering out of fear "that we weren't allowed to approach your client without you."

"ENOUGH OF THIS, I'M NOT GOING TO ALLOW THIS FRAUD TO MAKE FUN OF ME! YOU DON'T KNOW WHO YOU ARE DEALING WITH HERE! YOU DON'T KNOW WHO I AM! YOU ARE ALL GOING TO CHECK PARK TICKETS AND YOU… I'LL SEND THIS ONE BEHIND BARS!"

"Mr. Jeffrey, we are well aware of whom you are and who Mrs. Rosenberg's best friend is, but we are investigating the murder of HER husband, so, I think the least we all could do was…" Lisbon, enraged by the lawyer's outburst, with Jane at her back like often, was going to explain what their hypothesis were, when, suddenly, a stupid, leggy version of the character form the movie "Legally Blonde" appeared in the room like from nowhere, dressing in a little pink dress and with two Chihuahuas in her arms, her make-up all wet and ruined by tears.

"Mr. Jane, is it true that you found who killed my poor Kyle?" she asked between sobs, and froze when Mrs. Rosenberg turned and jumped on her, with the clear intention of, at least, hurting her.

"He wasn't your Kyle! He was my husband, mine!" She screamed hissing, while pulling the (fake) hair of Blondie, who was doing the same with Mrs. Rosenberg's extremely expensive and classy clothes, probably a pink Chanel suite.

"Kyle loved me! It was me he confined in! It was me he was in love with, because I knew him, because I understood him!"

"How you dare talking about understanding! I gave up 30 years of my life for that sorry excuse of a man!"

"Don't you dare talking about my poor Kyle like that!" Lisbon couldn't say how it happened, but from that, the fight between the two women escalated, and, somehow, Jane, terrorized and bracing to protect himself from the hits of the two harpies, found himself trapped in the middle of the less than 30 years old leggy and completely fake secretary (Blondie) and the almost 50 years old widow, Mrs. Rosenberg, while, right before their eyes, Mr. Jeffrey, the lawyer, was escaping, something that didn't go unnoticed by both the CBI SCU leader and the Mentalist himself…

"Cho, it's the lawyer!" they screamed at the same time, and while the Korean man was trying to stop the fugitive, Lisbon was trying to stop the harpies from hurting Jane too much…

_Friday, 7.47 pm_

"Jane, I'm not going to handcuff you, because I'm well aware that it's pointless, so I'll just say it once. Stay in the car, out of troubles, ok?" Lisbon told him, sitting at the driver seat of the CBI SUV she often used, Jane sitting, annoyed and bored, at her side.

"As you wish, mum"

"Don't mum me, Jane!"

"Meh, it's not my fault if you are the mother hem of our little CBI family! You know, this thing, it makes me think… if you are the mum, who's the father? Cho, no, he can't be the father, he may be the difficult grandpa, though. Rigsby, he is the naïve cousin coming from the country. Van Pelt, I'm not sure, do you think she is more like a little sister or a sweet aunt who always brings gifts? There's just me left, but you always says I'm a five years old, so I'm counted off. Besides, you should be my wife, if I wanted to be the father, even if… I'm pretty sure our babies will look amazing! With our beauty and brains combined, they'll rule the world!"

"Jane" she hissed at closed eyes, merely skimming over her gun on her hip, to scare him, to shout him up or to just let him understand how grave the situation was, she didn't know for sure "Jeffrey is here. He already killed. He is dangerous. If you dare to leave this care, I swear to God…"

"C'mon Lisbon, who do you think you are dealing with? I'll never leave you all alone to face dear Madeline's fury because you lost the life of her precious, golden, genial consultant!"

10 minutes later, as they finally faced Jeffrey, the found him holding Jane at gunpoint, the man's hands up in the air in surrender. "Lisbon, dear, I can assure I can explain. It's just that I thought I heard noises, and I was worried for you. I couldn't allow seeing the world losing such a beautiful creature, sweet Lisbon!"

Ok, maybe saving him every damn day could help to get rid of all those "Knight in shining armor/ prince charming" kind of fantasies…

_Saturday, 5.30 pm_

"Mr. Jane's been up almost the whole day, and kept asking of you. I have to say, Agent Lisbon, he has been quite…" Lisbon followed the nurse towards the room she has been told her unnerving consultant was currently residing in after his meeting with Mr. Jeffrey, and didn't need the redhead to end her sentence. It was clear that Patrick Jane had abandoned his charming ways in favor of his ability of unnerve, like always when trapped into a hospital (not that she thought it was weird. Part of her was sorry for him, considering WHY he hated hospitals so much). Apparently, he had started to play his "let's destroy them on a psychological level" card. She so didn't envy them, as much as she liked Jane's… presence at her side. Even if he was a pain, he was her pain, but pain Jane in a hospital? It wasn't a nice combination. But he deserved to stay trapped there, considering the hellish week she had just suffered because of him and his antics.

"Oh, oh" the redhead nurse said, as soon as she entered in the room.

"What does it mean? What happened?" She didn't know why, but she had the impression that her week wasn't over yet. Trust the man to ruin her week-end as well… and to avoid troubles and to send to hell regulations for few hours.

"He is… he is… he is gone… Oh my God… MR. JANE VANISHED!"

"Vanished? How can someone vanish from a hospital! There has to be something…." As soon as she entered in the room, she got it. Standing at the side of the single and only bed of the room, the one she assumed belonged to Jane was standing a male nurse, a black, quite big man, who seemed… "The damn bastard put the nurse in a trance… I'm going to kill him!" Saying so, she left the room, mobile in hand, already dialing the numbers of her trusted team-members… of the 3 team-members she currently trusted, at least.

_Sunday, 00.01 am _

She come to her place past midnight-one minute past midnight, but it was still past midnight, and even if she never gave a damn about working long hours, working long hours because of Jane was a different topic, especially if it was because of a missing Jane that she was working long hours.

Besides, she wasn't only angry, she was slightly worried as well, because, even if she was quite sure he had just escaped the hospital once again, there was a small part of her brain that kept repeating her that he hadn't contacted any of them, and he wasn't answering his mobile… either he had been kidnapped (yet again, and in this case, she hoped it was, yet again, a group of trees huggers and not some serial killer/relative of a someone he arrested/ruined with a personal vendetta against him/etc) or, simply, he knew that she'd send him again at the hospital, and this time kicking his ass, not so metaphorically speaking, or maybe she'd send few bullets at his address.

_Yes, I'll go with the bullets! _She thought as she sat on the edge of her bed, her room reached in the darkness, hiding her face behind her hands, trying to stop the river of tears. Even if she was 99.9% sure he was just avoiding them in order to avoid the hospital, there was that 0.1% of chance that he was somewhere hurt, that he was somewhere kept hostage by some crazy stalker/killer/nemesis, there was that little chance that she wasn't going to see him again, not alive, at least… she cried and cried, sobbing almost desperate, throwing herself on the blue cotton comforter, hoping that the pillow could absorb her tears and her sobs, that it could help her to… she didn't know what she wanted, she just… Jane could be in danger, could be dead, and he didn't know. She had never told him how much she cared, how much she… loved him, how sorry she was their date had been a hell, she'd never told him that she had been heartbroken realizing that he had gone out with her still wearing his wedding ring, and…

_"'m trying to sleep here. 'Shut up…" _ Lisbon opened her eyes, freezing, and, when, finally, she turned for the first time the lights on, here she saw it… The damn bastard was asleep in her bed! The damn bastard was peacefully fast asleep in her bed, on his side facing her, and had merely found the strength to speak just to, just to silence her, who has been that idiot to be scared about him!

"**JANE!" **She screamed, and, when he jumped, he almost fell on the pavement, looking around like in search of some psycho with the intent of killing him. She couldn't help but laugh, she didn't know if out of relief, or just because it felt surreal, or because he was just so hilarious, Jane, still half-asleep, sitting on her bedroom pavement, scared as a little child, wearing just a pair of thigh, short black boxers… Wait… hang on one second… were those he was wearing and she was currently staring at really just… a pair of black, short and thigh boxers? **"JANE! PUT SOMETHING ON! YOU ARE ALMOST NAKED!" **She screamed, covering her eyes, blushing like a schoolgirl, while the man… he grinned, like usual, and chuckled.

"Meh, I don't see why being so prude, Lisbon. you've seen men more naked than that " he told her, going to sit on the bed, and forcing Lisbon to uncover her eyes, making her make eye-contact "Besides, I know that you checked me out at least once… don't try to deny it, because I saw it!"

"I was worried about you, you idiot" she calmly stated, then, looked around, like hoping to see that he hadn't go through her things, and then looked back at Jane "By the way, what are you doing here?"

He took a big breath, and collapsed on the mattress, closed eyes, hands behind his head. "It smells like you. It calms me down, helps me to fall asleep. Cinnamon and Vanilla… mixed with you… they help me to relax. It's just, I still have problems sometimes, not like I used to have before it ended, but, still… I think, it got worse after, you know, after you, 3 months, 2 weeks, 5 days, 2 hours and 37 seconds ago… told me we were… we just could be friends."

"You… count the minutes since our…date?" he nodded and, he turned to face her, both on the sides now "But… I don't understand why you should…"

"I miss it, what we had. It hasn't been the same after it." he simply stated, smiling sadly. "I want…it's just, we had arrested him a week before Lisbon, a week! How could I think we were ready to jump into a relationship?"

_Yeah, right, the thought of us, of all, into a relationship, really crazy_ she though, disappointed.

"You deserve to be courted in the right way; you deserve my complete and utter attention! You didn't deserve a 41 years old man who has been celibate for 7 years to jump on you in the back of his car so that he could have his wicked ways with you!"

_What?_

"I guess…" he said, interlacing their fingers so that she could feel one of them bare "I guess I needed to understand where I've been wrong, what I wanted and needed… and how to get you back…" He kissed her quickly on the lips, just more or less a peck as they both smiled as they cuddled together to sleep, not carrying if he was more naked then dressed and if she was still completely dressed.

_One hellish week over, a wonderful lifetime to go…_


	7. Innocence

Disclaimer: last time I checked, I didn't own the Mentalist. too bad. I hoped to get them for Christmas, but, instead, I got a 10 days vacancy in Rome later this winter...

Anyway-these stories are based on prompt by The Mentalist Prompt on LJ, but, incase you'd like to commision me something, I'd not mind. I've always been of the idea that a story is made in 95% of hard work, and 5%inspiration. So, all I need is YOU to inspire me with a word or a quote, the title of a song or of a movie, and I'll be glad to work on it, because inspiration is going away slolwy, and prompts on mentalist promts aren't inifite, you know..

* * *

INNOCENCE

You've never been an innocent. You've never known what innocence is, what it feels like.

You laid and manipulated, tricked your way into people's lives. That's who and what you were, always had been.

Until she entered in your lives, Charlotte, your greatest joy, and, finally, you understood what being an innocent may mean, and what innocence may be how it may feel like.

Charlotte was an innocent, and she deserved to have time to understand what innocence was and how it felt like.

And she deserved to have everything you and Angela didn't got to have because of your families (a home, puppies, an education, decent food, clean and new clothes, toys and everything she could want); so, for her own good (or at least that's what you kept repeating to yourself and to Angela) you kept lying and manipulating, tricking your way into people's lives. After all, it made good money, money that you used to make your daughter happy (it was for a good reason, sure).

And since she was an innocent, you didn't allow seeing who you really were and what you did. (You no longer even knew if you wore the mask of the good father and there was the fraud behind it, or vice versa.) You didn't want to grow up as you did, becoming what you did, like your father before your time. (Yes, you absolutely did it for a good reason….)

But, then, you lost her, the most precious thing in your life, and along with her you lost the shadow of innocence that she had implanted inside your dark heart. Sometimes you think you may remember how you used to feel those days, but it's just that, a memory, you are unable to feel again, anything at all. You can only feel empty, because your innocence is gone.

What was left of innocent in you is gone because of Red John, because he has taken away the only innocent and pure and beautiful thing in your life. That's why you'll never stop hunting him down, that's why you'll never stop until he'll be dead, killed by you, because, after all, you are no longer an innocent.


	8. New Year New you

Disclaimer: ok, wait a sec, let me check on my legal papers...no, it's not here, not even here, ah, wait, I got it! Uhm, nope, I don't own the Mentalist, just my season 1 dvds- season 2 set didn't come out here in Italy yet.

* * *

It's almost midnight of December 31th, and you are all alone, in a place you shouldn't be, the only place, probably, you shouldn't be, but where else you could be? Definitely not in the bullpen, where there's that damn, stupid party celebrating the end of the old year and the beginning of the new one, not over there with everyone so damn happy, so damn drunk, celebrating life and happiness and everything in between. And you don't even want to start talking about Van Pelt and Rigsby, who are, yet again, secretly dating at your back, and are probably, right in this moment, "carnally celebrating" their love for each other…

It's not that you are unhappy for them, quite the contrary. You are well aware that they worked better when they were dating then after their forced break-up. Maybe now they'll behave again like normal human beings and not hormonal and brokenhearted teenagers with the need of killing their lost love, but right now, hearing Grace, completely wasted, crying while proclaiming her undying love for her work-partner… definitely not what you need, as you ARE broken-hearted. And the fact that you are in HIS attic right now prove it. Not that you need to be there to let people, and yourself moreover, understand how much you miss the man. Everybody knew you loved, still love, him. Bosco knew for sure, he hadn't been that sibylline about it – even if he could have been more direct as well. His "Are you sure it's the only reason you keep him around?" is still screaming at you, asking how the hell did you miss it for so long, how you haven't been able to see it all along…

Because, obviously, differently from him, you've followed clichés for your whole life, and it's not different here- you've understand you were, are, in love with him, when it was too late, when you've lost him. You've seen all the love you held for him the day-better yet, the night- IT ended. You remember the hate in his voice, the rage in his eyes, the agony his body was transmitting and the betrayal, because he has lived for one thing and one thing only and you knew it, and yet you've taken it away from him, on purpose, because you_ cared_. That's what you repeated to yourself, that's what you told him, times and times again, that you cared about him. you'd like to know when it happened, if you really just cared about him at one point, or it has been love right from the start, but you didn't want to see it, were too scared to see it, to accept it, at least until it was too late, until he was gone, until he was lost to you.

Not that you've really lost him, because, to lose something, you have to have it first, and you've never had him, never, ever. It's one of those situations where you know he is your soul-mate but you understand that you'll never been his, yet another stupid damn cliché.

Last hour news, Teresa Lisbon: you're pretty pathetic.

"You know that this is unhealthy, right?" And, right now, you're even getting crazy. Great, just great, like you didn't hear Patrick's voice enough in your head, remembering all those horrible things he told you. Now you hear him quoting you as well. Because that's what the dream Patrick is doing, quoting you, telling you what you told the real him as you found him, one day, in the attic. You fight back the tears as you realize that it seems it has been a life time, it seems years ago, but it's just less than one year, 7 months ago or so, to be more accurate, since you told him so, and yet… Maybe it's because he is not here, maybe it's because you miss him so much, maybe that's the reason you can't stand the passing of time, you seem lost in time, and time seems lost to you as well… "Sshhhh, don't cry sweetheart, don't cry, just…I can't stand the sight of you crying, ok? Will you do that for me? Will you be strong enough for the both of us?" He takes you in his arms, and… it can't be a hallucination triggered by your sleep deprivation, right? Because it's so damn real, it feels so damn real, he feels so damn real… you can feel the heat of his body; you can hear the sound of his unsteady breathing and of his erratic heart; you can feel the tears on your hair, and you smell his scent, something that's sea and Patrick Jane and craziness all in one, and he is holding you like for dear life, like you were a life-preserver, as strongly as no one ever did with you, and his voice… of course he is a damn good hypnotist, with such a mesmerizing voice. How did you miss it for so long? Ah, right, you didn't. You simply were in denial.

Because, face it, Lisbon, with Patrick Jane, you've been in denial since day one.

You cup his face with your hand, and looks into his eyes, seeing them glassy for the tears, tears that are still running even if he is fighting not to, like he would be strong, strong enough for the both of you, or maybe strong enough for THEM… you're not sure, you're not sure of anything any longer. Until two minutes ago, you thought you weren't going o see him ever again, and right now… right now, you don't really care if you'd not see him again, because you are taking your time right now. Last time, you didn't know it could be the last time you were going to see him, but now you do, you do and you savor the moment, you impress every inch of his being into your memory, you commit the very image of Patrick Jane to memory so that you could… you're not sure what you'll do with this "information". You'll probably torture yourself with what ifs and buts, imagining things that are not and never will be.

Because you've always been a glutton for punishment and because you are an emotional masochist, that's the only reason, a reason you are well aware of.

You start to sob again, and this time you are almost pray to convulsions in his arms, but this time Jane doesn't go for the sweet approach. He doesn't cry with you, he doesn't lull into a sense of comfort with his voice and his caresses on your back. This time he is resolute. He steps back a bit, taking you for the shoulders, daring you to look at him in the eyes, and even if you are still crying, you stop to sob and try to not show the tears, try to stop them; you try to be strong and to look at him. He looks into your eyes, green lost into blue, and you can see he is fighting, struggling, whom or what you're not sure, even if you're pretty sure the main battle is with him.

"It was dead or in jail, Lisbon, it has always been one of them, _always" _he stresses out the last word, like to let you know exactly what he is talking about, to underline the exact meaning of the sentence, like you don't know it too well. It's about Red John; it's always about Red John with Jane, always have been, and always will, even now that it's over. "I've never contemplated… this. I've never thought about being both alive and free at the same time. I've never thought you'd kill him in self defense. I was… it was too much, Lisbon, I was…" he doesn't end the sentence, and you're quite sure it's not because he doesn't know how to, but because he doesn't want to. Jane has always done his best to avoid showing emotions, has always done his best to conceal his thoughts, at least the real ones, from everyone. The people he opened up with along the years can be counted on one hand, like the amount of times he has been completely and utterly honest with you. "It's really over, isn't it?"

You'd smile if it wasn't such a tragedy. Jane has fought his nemesis for so long, hidden behind his mask for so many years, that now that Red John is gone he almost can't believe it; even it's been months- months you've spent apart because he has "escaped". Not that he had really escaped, because, face it Lisbon, you knew he was with you all just because of the Red John case, and with Red John out of the picture, why should he stay?

You just nod, and you can feel a smile, an honest to God smile, on your hair (is it even possible? Feeling a smile on your hair? Or are you just kidding yourself?). Few seconds later, he is grinning against your neck, and laughing against your neck, and crying into your neck and nuzzling your neck, all together. You feel the laugher reverberating through your very being, and you feel the hot tears of relief and, you hope, of happiness, wetting you, and you join him. You know he told you he didn't want for you to cry, but you're pretty sure he wasn't talking about tears of happiness.

Because that's what you are feeling right now: happiness. The only thing that would make it even better would be spending the night with him, naked, busy in activities of the adult variety. You're pretty sure that you'd die a happy woman, after having been with him. You don't want too much; you don't want eternity; you don't even want his very soul. You're just asking for one night, you'd be more than happy with one night only. Still crying, you lift your face, moving closer to his own, you force him to break contact with your neck, and you do what you've dreamed of doing since too long, longer then you'd like to admit: you kiss him everything you are both worth. You feel _almost _complete, _almost _at peace when your lips meet his own, when he doesn't only accept them, but welcomes them, reciprocating his actions. Before you could understand what's going on, you are both fighting for dominance, you tongues are entangled, and teeth are scratching lips while his hands hold you, firmly, strongly. You're pressed against him, your breast are pressed against his chest, you can feel how much he wants it, how much he wants this, how much he wants _you_.

That's why, while still kissing each other, with passion but not romance, with lust and, maybe, just maybe, a hint of _love _(and it has to be just on your side, because you'd knew if he was in love with you, and besides, he had wore the bloody wedding ring for almost eight years, and he always thought of himself to be a married man, and he has always been devoted to Angela, so it's impossible that he could be in love with you, you're just seeing things and you are being your usual emotional masochist) your hands go into unknown territory (unknown because this is Patrick Jane, for crying out loud!) and they start to undo everything they find along their trip, buttons of jacket and vest and even shirt (the man wears too many layers and it's a crime because you can feel and see between closed eyes moans how well toned and muscled and sculptured and bloody hot his body is). He reciprocated the actions, still crying, caressing your breast through your bra, and this encourages you to go on, and it's then that he stills your actions, when you've already removed his belt and are in the process of open his fly.

As he holds your hands, you take a couple of steps back, and, astonished, in disbelief; you look at the man in front of you. His eyes are still closed, he is biting his lips, and it's clear that… stopping you has been hard, hard and painful. You can even still see how much he want it, this, you. He seems sorry and uneasy as well, something you're not used when concerning Jane. And his next words, pronounced as he removes his hands from you, passing them on his pants, confirm it.

"I'm… I'm sorry Teresa, I've been caught up in the moment and… it's been a long time since I've felt a… since I had a beautiful woman in my arms, thinking about doing… well, that, so, yeah, sorry." So, here you are again. It's New Year's Eve and he has managed to make you cry three times. Yes, because you're crying again, but this time it's not out of relief of happiness. No, this time you cry out of disappointment, because you just made a fool of yourself and because his arousal wasn't for you but just because you are _a woman. _"No, no, Teresa, no, listen, it's not like I'm…I'm not telling you _not" _he is again on you, his hands are again on your shoulders, he is again holding you , and you can hear and feel the slight note of panic in his voice "It's just… I miss normal. I haven't been normal in so long, and I want it to be normal between us… normal and…right…." he panic more and more as, listening to him saying that he isn't sure that dating you would be such a good idea, you start to cry as a little girl who just fell. "No, No, Teresa, baby, I didn't mean like that! I meant that, I want to do things right… and I don't want our first time… of there will be a first time at all… to be _here _of all the places… you deserve so much more… you deserve to be worshipped and… and I want to take… to meet you…to melt into you… in fresh and clean and scented silk sheets and you deserve it to be slow and loving and… and doing this right now…I'm not sure I'd be able to… keep up with expectations." You almost hate that he knows, just knows, that you have…expectations on this, and pretty high as well. You've always thought he was a God in because he is just so damn good at reading everyone so he simply has to know when and how and where touch you, and he knows everything about everything and he is just so damn hot and if his perfect body could reflect the perfection of the vision of him moving under or on top of you… "And… I know we had six years of foreplay, but… I still think I'd be more comfortable if we could at least go out _once _before… you know, before doing _this_." You laugh, it's an honest laughter because this is just comical, because this is Patrick Jane being uncomfortable about something for the first time you met him, and you're not even remotely concerned that he is being uncomfortable because you're supposed to talk about sex, and sex between the two of us, even. You don't even care that you're still shirtless. This is just… this is just so good, and… and you feel like exploding out of happiness again, happiness and relief and, yes, even love.

He joins you, laughing along with you, embracing you, still with his naked torso on show, and he doesn't care either. He just wants to hold you, to laugh along with you, and when midnight strikes, still laughing, he kisses you again, and this time there are no tears involved, there's no lust, there' no hurry. You can feel love and passion on both parts. You can feel how much he needs you, and not merely on a physical level, and it's only in this moment that you realize something. Patrick Jane hasn't come back to you, because this is the same man you met, the same man you helped into avenging his family. This man, this one, holding you, kissing you, is a brand new one, rebuilt, rebirth, and it's all yours, he'll be always yours, from now one, because right now you understand, you know that your most secret, deepest fantasy was true-you two are star-crossed lovers. Guess it's time for you as well to be that Teresa you've never got to be, that new one you've always wanted to be but never get to because you were too busy and too dedicated and he was too far away from you. But now he is here, right where he was always supposed to be, and he isn't leaving. He never will.


	9. Once upon a time

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Disclaimer: ok, wait a sec, let me check on my legal papers...no, it's not here, not even here, ah, wait, I got it! Uhm, nope, I don't own the Mentalist, just my season 1 dvds- season 2 set didn't come out here in Italy yet.

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**title **_Of fairytales, happy endings and happily ever after_  
**prompt **34 Once upon a time  
**rating **G  
**words count **5479 (longer than I orginally thought)  
pairing; Jane/Lisbon.  
**summary **.Every little girl wants to be a princess of a magic creatures from a fairytales, and as kid Teresa Lisbon was no exception. Only, after she met Patrick Jane, she started to feel more like a night in shining armor.  
**Note:** Done because ...well, it was the original version of my story on "once upon a time", and this one was found this afternoon forgotten on my Pc, and the old prompt inspired me to end it and change few details. basically, it's dedicated to my BFF on the net, PETITJ, who always encourage me. Beside, **my table is over!, **so i had to keep me busy somehow, right?  
**Note 2: **At the end of this story it will be used the name "Anne", aka Jane's daughter middle name. at the time this story, and once upon a time, which is kind of inspired to the first version of this, saw the light, it hasn't been told yet.

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Every little girl wants to be a princess, or some kind of magic creature. Teresa Lisbon, as a kid, wasn't an exception.

Of course, when she was 10 years old or even younger and everything in her life was _almost _perfect, her fairytales were always of the good kind, they didn't even need a happy ending. Her life was already happy and perfect, why did she need a happy ending, after all? As the only girl of the family, both her parents treasured her. She was her father's little girl, his treasure, in some way she was his favorite. And everybody loved her. How could they not? She could never forget how, when at the station with her father, surrounded by his coworkers and their always present wives, everybody kept running their fingers through her dark locks ruffling her hair like she was still a young baby- yes, she was the mascot of the station, and she absolutely adored it. She was loved and beloved and cherished, she was the young princess of that wonderful kingdom, and everybody envied her because her family was oh, so perfect, both her parents heroes in their own unique way, and they were so happy and they had the house with garden and two cars and a cat and a dog… and even if she denied it with all her heart, she absolutely, absolutely, loved it with a passion.

Then, everything went south. Like in the most horrid story, she lost her mother, and along with her, her father lost his soul. There was no love left for her, she wasn't a princess any longer. People didn't ruffle her hair any longer; they just patted her on the back uncomfortably, pitying her, the situation she had fallen into. She was, felt like fallen royalty, like the princess from some of her stories, and even if she no longer was a kid, even if she was 12 and older, she _had _to believe in those stories. It was the only way to move on, to keep going on. She had to believe she was Snowhite, or, maybe, even better, Cinderella. She had to believe there was going to be a happily ever after for her, she had to believe that, even if she was suffering, there was going to be some kind of reward for it, of the mortal kind. She had to believe that things were going to change. She had to believe her father was going to see the light, to be awakened from the terrible spell of dark magic a sorceress (called alcohol) had put on him, she had to believe she was going to meet her charming prince on a white horse and he was going to bring her and her beloved brothers away from the terrible home she was finding herself living in.

At 17, when, after her father's death she got the emancipation and started working her way into society to provide sustaining for her family while studying at the same time, too young to do so on her own, but motivated enough to not allow anyone too close to them, scared to be divided from the last remaining of her old life, the last reminder of an happiness long lost, she stopped skimming over the fabric of dance dresses, she stopped thinking, dreaming of being a princess. She knew, she thought, she didn't have the so-called "physique du role" to be a princess. She felt she was plain, not as beautiful as the princess from her books, now long forgotten, not as beautiful as even the princess in reality were. Besides, dreams and fantasies weren't things that come true, not for people like her, at least, so keeping thinking about it, wasting precious energy, was just too stressful and, as she had already told many times, a waste of otherwise precious energies. She didn't even go to prom- after all, the guy she was lusting after from a couple of years didn't even know of her existence. He was just another cold-hearted guy who never gave a damn about her (if not to laugh at her expenses, but, ehy, he was still paying attention to her, right? And besides, everybody know that guys are jerks only with the girls they are crazy about), and she was so stupid and naïve to worship him -from afar, but still too openly. Everybody at school knew of the huge crush she had on Jonathan Carter the Third, him included.

When she joined the academy first and the SFPD later, she felt, for the first time in her life, happy and free. She even come back to believe in fairytales, even if in a slightly different way. Aunt Christine was taking care of the boys back in Chicago; they were living in a nice neighbor and in a decent familiar environment. And she was the mistress of her own life, for probably the first time. Nobody knew of her past, of her suffered youth, no one pitied her remembering the princess she used to be. They didn't know Peter and Dorothy Lisbon, she wasn't Pete's little girl, she wasn't Lisbon's eldest daughter who's so mature to watch over her entire family, drunken father included, and doesn't ask for help, and doesn't want to hear of social co-workers being even only few meters from her home. In Frisco, she was Agent Lisbon, and she could make a difference. In Frisco, she was a heroine, she felt like Saint George against the dragon, like the knight from the Round Table who fought the good fight in order to save the kingdom, and not only the sovereigns, but _the people. _She no longer needed saving, not that she had needed any in the past, she was too happy first and too stubborn and proud later, but, right now, she was the one who _gave and provided _salvation, she was the one who made possible the happy end, the happily ever after, even if she knew it wasn't possible for her. After all, like in all good middle age myths, she had fallen for the "forbidden fruit"… Like Lancelot the knight had fallen for Queen Guinevere, King Arthur's beloved wife, she had fallen for her superior, for her boss, for a married man, not exactly haply ever after material. Like Lancelot, she knew it was wrong, but unlike him, she had been strong enough to not fall in the web of passion. It was painful, because she knew that, with just a mere word Sam would have left his wife for her, because whatever she felt for the older man was reciprocated, but she remembered how the little affair in Camelot ended- it destroyed the kingdom. She knew she'd destroyed a family for something that maybe, just maybe, was simply lust-based, so, when the CBI contacted her offering a good position, she accepted without thinking twice. Besides, she could no longer look at Sam Bosco knowing what he had done- they had made an oath, and he had broken it.

At the CBI, life was too consuming to even consider the option of thinking of it like some kind of fairytale. She simply didn't have time. Her only goal was to make it to team leader in record time, showing that she hadn't slept her position in the bureau like few thought, and everything she had gained it was well deserved of her abilities. She didn't care if she was cold, bitchy or what else- her only goal was to show people what she was made of, and if by doing so she had to be strictly on the book and jus professional with the people around her, so being it. Of course, a (rather small) part of her being knew that she was still, in a certain way, a knight (and few times she felt like one) but she simply didn't have time to indulge further more in such childish fantasies. Besides, she kept repeating herself she was not the person she used to be, that she had to act different if she wanted to be different from the girl she used to be back home- stopping thinking like her was a start as good as any. She was content with her life. She couldn't say she was happy with it, but, at least, she wasn't unhappy, and it was a good thing.

Things didn't go as she had planned them, though. In fact, she could say she hadn't planned to meet a man like Patrick Jane, not at all. Actually, she could say he was the kind of man she swore she'd do her best to avoid at all cost- there was a reason the first moment she put her eyes on him she felt bells ringing danger, telling her she was in big, huge, troubles… Even if he wasn't her kind of man (hers was dark, tall, handsome and extremely nice) she could say Patrick Jane was every woman's fantasy made blood and bones. Tall enough, blond curls, blue eyes, smart, clever, witty, and charming, he was bastard enough to be the kind of man women fell head over heels for, every woman, and sometimes, just sometimes, her as well. After all, he was a charming prince for all the girls he met, but, and that was important, that was something she was well aware of, none of them were his princess. After all, it didn't take her long enough that Patrick Jane looked like a prince charming but was far away from being one. Actually, in many situations, he was more like the princess; needing saving from the knight… but that was before he decided he needed to be honest with her. When they started talking… if she had to think of a story, she'd had said he was the broken prince, the man upon whom the evil sorcerer had launched a spell. She felt like he was doomed to be unhappy for the rest of his life. And she felt like she was the head of the knights, the princess who swore to help him in stopping the sorcerer and breaking the spell… she hated dreaming of him like The Beast, and of herself of Belle, because it was a dangerous thought. Besides, it meant one thing and one thing only: she was falling for him, and, besides being totally unprofessional (i.e. safe) it was a sure receipt for a broken heart. Somehow, though, she didn't stop helping him out, confiding in him, she didn't stop forcing him to be honest and be open, as dangerous as it was, both emotionally and psychically. Even thinking, hell, even dreaming about having a relationship with Jane was dangerous, with Red John into the picture… besides, there was no way he could reciprocate whatever she felt for him: Jane was hell-bent on revenge, he saw life only when it come to Red John's death, and, last but not least, she had seen pictures of his wife. Angela Ruskin-Jane was made of the same material dreams, angels and princesses were made of, and, if she had to listen to what people from Patrick Jane's past kept telling her, she wasn't only beautiful, but perfect inside and out as well. She knew there was no way to she could win the fight for Jane's heart. It was out of the question. So, instead of being his saving grace, his princess, the love of his life, she opted for something else. She decided to be his knight in shining armor, to be there to save him no matter what, and to fight to give him his happily ever after stopping once and for all his arch-nemesis.

And now… now, here she is, in her office, looking outside her window, reflecting on her life, and what happened recently and what will happen soon. Red John is now dead, has been for almost a week, killed by Cho to save both her and Jane, while Patrick Jane, well, she isn't sure he has already registered the fact that it's over. It's quite sure he hasn't, since he is still there, and he has always been adamant about the fact that he was with them only because he needed them to reach his goal, the killer's death. Of course, he hasn't been the one pulling the trigger, but, contrary to their beliefs, he doesn't seem too bothered by this fact.

"Hey, may I talk with you?" she is awakened by her reverie by his voice, low and, somehow, uncertain. It's always strange hearing this tone in Jane, when it concerns work, he never has doubts, and even if he has, he keeps them for himself. Of course, this doesn't include Red John, but Red John is no more, so it can't be that bad- or at least, terrible. Besides, he has entered, like his usual, without bother to knock, and he is already sitting on "her" couch (even if, technically speaking, it's his couch, since he has been the one buying it, without her knowing he was actually buying a piece of furniture for her office; does it make it _their couch? _And is he going to ask for it back once he'll leave them once and for all?). He seems nervous, though, and the sight of a nervous Patrick Jane passing his sweating hands on his pants is quite… well, weird. Of course, any kind of emotion is weird, when it comes to Jane, since he has allowed for years emotions to touch him only when it was about Red John.

"Jane, are you all right' If there's something…" She tries to get closer to him, to go to sit at his side, but he stops her where she is with a movement of his left hand. With his right, he takes a piece of paper, clearly from a notebook (the man and his damn notebooks), from a pocket, and, once cleared his voice, he starts to read the handwritten words, while the only thing Teresa can do is looking at him with crossed arms and lifted eyebrows.

"_Once upon a time, there was a prince. He was happy but full of himself, a liar, and wanted more than what he already had; as rich as he already was, it was never enough for him. One day, he met an evil sorcerer, and the prince mocked him in front of his whole court, trying to show his people who the man really was. The sorcerer got mad, and decided to curse our prince: the man lost everything he had and with it his own happiness, and was never going to find it again until he couldn't find a way to break the spell on his own."_

"Jane, I don't understand… why are you reading me a fairytale, and why did you write a fairytale in the first place? What the…" she tries to say, but he stops her, once again with a simple gesture, and then moves on, keeping progressing with the narration while she is still trying to understand what is going on and where he is going with this whatever it is thing.

_"The prince walked for years and years through all the realms of the world. He had lost faith in everything and everyone, he thought he had no reason at all to live, until, one day, a messenger come to him, telling him that the king of the realm he was him wished to meet him and seek for advice. The king had learnt of the prince and of what the evil sorcerer had done, and explained to the younger man that the evil man had done it many other times, before and after they had meet, that he wasn't the only one who had been cursed. He told him that he had decided to entrust his knights, guided by his daughter, a warrior princess, to stop the evil creature, in order to avoid seeing what had happened to the prince happening once again to someone else. The king told the prince that he had learned many things about him, that he knew about his many talents, and that he wanted him to help them to stop the creature once and for all…"_

He is so engrossed in the narration, and so unsure, that she doesn't have the heart to stop him. The only thing she keeps thinking about is if she should call someone (i.e. Dr. Sophie Miller) to know if she should be worried that Jane is talking about them in third person and as characters of a fairytale. Of course she knows that children often tries to picture reality as a fairytale to explain bad things, but how should she deal with an adult, older than 40 years old, doing such?

_"The prince joined the king's army, under the false pretense of helping them, but, in truth, looking for a way to seek revenge. Contrary to what common sense suggested him, he started to spend a lot of time with the four knights- the princess, two men loyal to her and a young woman. In particular, the prince found himself drown towards the princess, who had been raised as a boy, since she was the only heir to the throne, and always followed orders, because that was the way she had been told to act and because it was the only way she felt safe and secure and in control."_

She suppresses the need to shout that its' not true, because, deep down, she knows it is. Besides, she doesn't want to break the spell he has cast on her. This side of Jane… it's simply too captivating.

"_But since the prince was her opposite and he always did as he pleased without carrying about rules and orders, they always argued. He knew, though, that she was a good woman, probably a saint, because she always saved him, and was ready to risk her life for him. The prince had always trusted her, since the beginning, and hated that she didn't know this fact, and when she started to finally actually trust him, he thought he was a bit closer to find his happiness again, that maybe he was finally finding a way to break the spell, and his belief got even stronger when she told him that, despite all his mistakes, she knew he was, deep down, a good man, but he had to know that if the prince wanted to get his revenge against the sorcerer, he had to do so with the knights' help, and not on his own, otherwise, he'd be punished."_

She'd like to cry, this thing… Jane telling his story, their story this way, it's simply… Lisbon feels her eyes getting teary, and she doesn't care. She isn't going to fight it.

_"But the sorcerer was smart and merciless. He had many allies, and every time the prince got closer to one of them, the evil man transformed them into statues, and in one case he asked for another sorcerer's help, and another time he went to a witch; both time his goal was to hit the knights, and if the first time the prince was able to save the princess from the sorcerer, the second time he couldn't stop the witch from killing another group of the knights who followed the King's orders. Another time, the sorcerer faced the prince, and transformed a woman the prince was befriending into an errand spirit, because he feared the man was close to a solution to break the spell… in fact, even if the prince didn't know it yet, the only way he had to be happy again was to be kissed of a kiss of real love by a lady he was in love with and whom loved him back even being well aware of his defects."_

Ok, now that he is talking about Kristina, and his possible, almost sure love for her, as much as she is sorry for the poor still catatonic woman, she can't help but feeling a bit… mad and something else she refuses to acknowledge.

_"But, in his arrogance, the sorcerer hadn't considered that the princess could have the power to break the spell as well, because she had been raised as a boy, because she was a knight, and because she and the prince never seem to get along… but the prince already knew he was in love with her, only, he was too scared to acknowledge the deepness of his feelings for the beautiful woman, too scared that, were they going to get closer, she'd die at the hands of the sorcerer like all the other people he had come to love and had lost in his life. He preferred to worship her from afar, to let her believe he was still a selfish monster, than losing her. He knew that he'd enter in the realm of madness if he'd lost her."_

"Wait, what?" _Where is he going? What is he trying to tell me? He can't…no, no way in hell, I refuse to believe that he didn't know, but, instead, suffered in silence for the same reasons I did…_ Like senses her thoughts, Jane takes a big breath, and then, once again silencing her with a gesture, not looking at her, thinking that, if he will, he'll get cold feet and will retreat, moves yet again on with his story.

_"After losing his friend, the prince took a long vacation. Once they returned, he was still dark inside, but the princess couldn't allow him to be surrounded by such a terrible aura, so, she faced him. At first, it didn't helped, but few days later, after both the prince and the princess got kidnapped by a opponents of the army, he decided that, maybe, they needed to talk, so, they talked the whole night, about everything that had happened them until that moment, and at a certain point, sleep come for them, and for the first time after he had been cursed, the prince got a good night sleep. And…the prince knew why he had slept through the night without nightmares; he knew it was because he was in the princess' arms. He knew she had healed him, and he knew she cared for him. He was well aware of his feelings for her, but was scared, because he didn't know if she just cared for him or she loved him, and then, he knew that had the sorcerer knew of his feelings, he'd hurt her. Our prince was so blinded by revenge that he hadn't understood that the princess did love him, but thought he didn't saw her as a woman, like someone to love, and had preferred to still be his friend than losing him."_

"What? That's not true! Besides, how does it come that it's now about me and no longer about you?"

_"_Would you mind a minute of silence, please? I'm trying being sincere here for once!" he almost screams, irritated as she once again stops his narration, but still without looking at her. "_But, even if the prince had been careful, the sorcerer, being a sorcerer with great magical abilities, had learned of their required love, and was scared , because he knew that, had they kiss, the spell would be broken, and he didn't want the prince to be happy again. But he was sick and tired of playing hide and seek with him, so he sent an evil troll to the castle, and ordered him to kidnap the princess and leave a note for the prince: if he wanted to see her again, he had to come back to his realm, at his castle, in 3 days time."_

She shivers at the memory, lost in fear. How could she forget the day a fellow CBI agent took her from her home, under Red John's orders, and brought her to Jane's Malibu home, in order to destroy the man once and for all? It had been the worst 3 days of her life, and even if she had been strong, and had never gave the monster the pleasure of crying or begging, she had been scared for her own life, and terrified thinking about Jane's reaction to her eventual death. She knew he saw every other human being as a pawn, but she knew as well that he cared for every single life, especially the ones lost to Red John.

_"When the prince finally got inside the throne room, 3 days later, at midnight as the sorcerer had ordered him to, he saw his love on her knees, tied, scared, hurt, and the evil man was pointing his wand at her neck, ready to cast a spell to turn her into a statue, like he had done with the prince's friend few months before. But the prince got his sword, just as the sorcerer's wand turned into a blade as well, and they started to fight. The sorcerer was very good, and the prince wasn't even close to him, but he was desperate, because he had promised the princess to always save her, and he didn't want to lose her or break his promise, because he knew that the dark haired heiress to the kingdom was the love of his life, so, with a last effort, when he was already on the soil, even if he was hurt and bleeding, with the force of desperation, the moment the sorcerer got on his knee to end him, he hit him, and made the evil man lost his consciousness... or so he thought. Hurt, bleeding, he crawled on the soil to reach the princess and free her. When she saw he was hurt, and he hadn't killed the sorcerer, keeping his promise, she hugged him, and cried in his arms, but weren't tears of sadness, but of happiness and relief. They were so caught in the moment that they didn't see that the sorcerer was getting closer and closer to them, until it was almost too late. He was going to hit them with his magic wand, but, fortunately, one of the male knights arrived, just in the nick of time, and saved them both, hitting the evil man with an arrow and ending his life." _He takes a big breath and, finally, he looks at Lisbon, sitting on the edge of her desk, looking in the void with lifted eyebrows and crossed arms. "That's the end of the story. Are you ok' you don't seem Ok. You seem rather confused, Lisbon. Are you confused, Lisbon? Because this whole thing, well, it wasn't supposed to confuse you, and you seem rather confused."

"Shout up Jane, I'm thinking here!" She screams, pacing for the whole room, hands on her hips. "Just… out of curiosity, how the hell is this thing supposed to _not _confuse me? Because, you just did… and I mean, you never, and besides, me, and you, and then… and, well, you know that… or maybe you don't… but the fact is… I mean…" she grunts, in frustration, almost screaming at the top of her lungs. "Dammit Jane, why can't say things like any normal person would? Why do you always have to be so cryptic about everything?"

"Well, first, I've never liked behaving like any other average person. I think, by now, you should be well aware of the fact that words such as common sense, usual, normal, polite and politically corrects don't exactly suit me. Second, like the last few years have showed, my natural predisposition to empathy has generate a sort of inside wall in my conscience, that protects me from the sufferance's of who's close to me. Unfortunately, in the same way, said wall doesn't allow me to show to the ones who are closed to me how I really feel. Thus, when it comes to important things, such as feelings and declarations, I find myself at loss of words, and I have to improvise, exactly like I just did."

"It was a rhetorical question, Jane" she says, massaging the bridge of her nose. She pauses, a long pause, and the man can't help but stealing every now and then a glance at the dark haired beauty, hoping into some kind of reaction. "Was that some weird attempt of telling me you are in love with me?" she asks, crossed arms, still unsure and… well, the fact that Patrick Jane has just declared her his love via a fairytale (while she was reflecting on her life and fairytales, nevertheless) has been a bit out of the blue, a lot out of the blue, actually. Patrick Jane is, after all, supposed to mourn for his family until the day he'll die. For God's sake, she never even dared to dream about a "them" because he was still wearing his wedding ring- he is still wearing his wedding ring, because he still does, right?

"I thought it was rather cute. You've always enjoyed fairytales, and…"

"It was, yet again, another rhetorical question." She pauses, but this time, she is smiling, a fact that, if not encouraging Jane, at least puts the man more at ease with the whole situation. "You're right. When it comes to what's serious and important, your mentalisitic abilities completely fall you."

"Yeah, well… our lives have definitely not been a fairytale, and I thought…"

"It's cute that you wanted to give me the happily ever after. But…" she pauses, a long, very, very long pause, and her eyes, he is completely unable to say what she'll tell me. He is just scared that he has red her wrong the whole time and that he is alone in this. He definitely doesn't like this "But", not a bit. "But you can't do that." That's it, the moment he has feared the whole time, he has feared since Red John has been put down. He can't make her happy because she doesn't want him to. She doesn't love him. He is alone, yet again, and there's nothing he can do about it. He'll not fight for her, he'll not make her madder, he'll not make her suffer because of his presence and he'll not make her struggle with their (different) feelings. He'll simply disappear from her life. He'll be miserable but she'll be happy, and that will be enough for him.

Without hurting his honor furthermore, he leaves the couch, and moves to leave her office. He'll retreat to his personal couch for few hours and then… then he'll try to not see the object of his affection any more. He knows he'll never be able to see Lisbon being actually happy with another man.

"I think you said something in the line of the prince needing a kiss of real love in order for the spell to be broken…" her low, malicious, purring and husky voice awakens him from whatever lethargic state he was in, and, as quick as a tornado, he turns on his heels, closes the door, turns the blinds down and comes back inside facing her with the same dilated pupils as Lisbon. Of course, Lisbon doesn't look like the big bad wolf ready to jump on Little Red Hood- namely her – while, well, he IS the big bad wolf. And he is planning of devouring her very, very slowly, starting with her lips. No, Lisbon definitely isn't the big bad wolf. She is more like a nymph sent to save the fallen hero with honey sent from the Gods- or maybe she is a witch, and how he is feeling is how Ulysses felt like when he met the mermaids, and Circe, and all that other heavenly creature… or maybe she is his Penelope, because her slow kiss, the sensation of her lips moving on his own, her tongue skimming over his teeth, her fingers running through his curls… he can only describe it as "coming home".

In that moment, he thinks that have finally reached their happily ever after. In less than a year, though, he'll be glad to be proven wrong by _his_ Teresa once again; in just few months time, she'll tell him 3 magic words that will rock his whole world in a way he never thought could happen again, making him, once again, the happiest man alive, and in a short while, together, they'll write a short but stunning epilogue to their story… "_Freed from the influence of the sorcerer known as Red John, Prince Patrick regained his happiness and decided to stay with the knights for the rest of his life, and once gotten the permission from the former king Minelli and the his substitute, queen Hightower, he finally married his Princess, the strong but sweet Teresa, and together they had their happily ever after, with their little miracle, a dark haired, curly, blue eyed princess called Anne…"_


	10. First kiss

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Disclaimer: ok, wait a sec, let me check on my legal papers...no, it's not here, not even here, ah, wait, I got it! Uhm, nope, I don't own the Mentalist, just my season 1 dvds- season 2 set didn't come out here in Italy yet.

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**title **_Undercover_  
**prompt ** 38 _First Kiss _**rating **_T_  
**words count **_3837_  
pairing; Jane/Lisbon.  
**summary **._Things don't go as planned when Lisbon has to go undecover to spy a criminal, with one of the guys posing as her other half. And with Rigsby injured, and Cho being Cho, guess who has to keep the weight of such a "torture"?_  
**Note:** Done because I fet like my story "undecover kiss" was missing something. Beside, **my table is over!, **so i had to keep me busy somehow, right? AND, well, it didn't turn out as I planned. It was supposed to be sweet, fluffy, romantic and humorous, and instead... well, you'll see.

BTW: dedicated to Jisbon4ever and to laurore!

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It all started on a rather beautiful late spring Monday morning. That day, Madeline Hightower entered in the bullpen of the SCU asking for Agent Lisbon's team and their help. The team- consisting of the petite brunette aka the Senior Agent Teresa Lisbon, the constantly tapping on her PC Grace Van Pelt, the always stoic Kimball Cho, the injured and on desk duty Wayne Rigsby and the always faking sleep blonde consultant/mentalist who was Patrick Jane – gathered in the bullpen, hearing their boss out. It come out that a special task force of the Sacramento Police Department needed their help, they were supposed to follow a man, called Ian Nottingham, who was scheduled to have an appointment at the Blue Bar, downtown Sacramento, that afternoon at 4.25. Unfortunately, until that moment, Ian had been able to unmask every agent who had been tasked to follow him, so the SPD decided to ask for the help of some "fresh blood" from their so-called friends at the CBI.

It went without question that the best closed-case rate team was supposed to take the case of shadowing the probable criminal, and it went without question that the agent who was supposed to follow him was the head of the Unit, Teresa Lisbon. Hightower knew too well that the brunette wasn't going to have it any other way that her agent wasn't going to risk putting her team in jeopardy that way; if someone had to be in danger; it had to be her and her only. Unfortunately for Lisbon, though, Hightower didn't like the idea of Lisbon going alone as well, because of the danger and because she would gain more attention. For the same reason, she didn't feel like leaving van Pelt going with her superior. The read head was still young, without any major experience on the undercover field and Madeline was quite sure that two women were going to gain too much attention if sat all alone and on their own at a bar in the afternoon.

In short words, one of the guys was supposed to be her (fake) boyfriend while spying on this Ian guy. Obviously, because of the injury, Rigsby was out of the equation (besides, he was too tall and too scared of her to even remotely look like her boyfriend). At the mention of Cho's name, instead, the senior agent rolled her eyes while Jane made his best to avoid laughing. The half-Korean was too stoic for his own good, and Lisbon was too tense when around him in a rather private situation such that. It was, yet again, another case of being unable to look like a couple, and potentially draining too much attention instead of the anonymous behavior they were supposed to follow. Lisbon turned scared towards the man who was going to be her (fake) boyfriend, knowing too well that he was the last resource, and that she'd seen a Cheshire grin on his triumphant face.

She felt like crying at the idea of having to deal with an, albeit fake, Patrick Jane as her boyfriend but she still accepted it, because it was her work. Jane, instead, was _too _happy. Lisbon tried desperately to not read too much into it, because misleading, manipulating and messing around with people's lives were, essentially, his job… somehow, thought, it wasn't of any consolation.

Obviously, nothing went as planned right from the start, and what was supposed to be a "take a look at our guy for an afternoon" suddenly become a "follow him as long as it takes". And it was taking days, and even worse, dear Ian was starting to notice in the back of his mind the nice couple, her dark haired, him blonde and slightly taller than her, who always seemed to be where he was. On the third day, though, while he was yet again at le Blue Bar, everything went south because he stopped to notice them in back of his mind and looked with a great suspicious at the man and the woman on the other side of the road who seemed to be everywhere he was.

Even an idiot would have noticed his glares at them, and Lisbon was nothing if not an extremely good, expert and seasoned coop who, in a fraction of mere seconds, registered the fact the man looking at them and that actions were required to dismiss his fear. And, as the extremely good, expert and seasoned coop she was, she immediately came out with a plan: smiling devilish, she went closer and closer to an extremely scared and uncomfortable blonde consultant clad in jeans and white, button-up shirt, and, once pushed him against the wall at his back, she nuzzled his neck, using the occasion to whisper in his ear, breathing on his curls. "I don't want you to panic, but Nottingham just saw us, and he seems rather suspicious" she breathed, kissing his chin with such a malice he thought he could explode or take her there and then, while her hands were drawing invisible patterns on his (muscular? How could his chest be muscular since he spent his days sleeping?) "He'll understand we're just watching him if we don't do something about it quickly…." She moaned while getting closer and closer to her objective, his lips, and got incredible annoyed when she realized that her words had shocked Jane and, therefore, he wasn't going to follow her "plan". The man was still, looking at Nottingham (damn idiot) and, to an outsider, could even seem dead… it was a mystery to he why she had to take things in her own hands whatever he did something- because, he could even try to deny it, but wherever he went, he left a trail of troubles she had to deal on her own.

So, without adding any further words, rolling her eyes at the sky, Lisbon grabbed him for the collar of his shirt, and forced their lips to met-or, better, to collide. For the first second, he didn't answer, he just stared at her, at their lips that were touching, then… then, his hands ventured under her shirt, to rest on the tender skin of her hips and her lower back, and in a quick, unexpected and rather energetic movement he exchanged their position, pushing the woman against the wall where he had found himself until few seconds before, his own body firmly stuck against her own, grinding in her own. No longer annoyed, but rather intrigued and lost in the moment, Teresa's hands left his shirt to venture one in his curls, doing something she had long dreamt of doing (she gripped them, she ran her fingers trough them, she used the sensorial experience of touch to study them and see by herself if they were as silky and soft and wild as they seemed- they were) while the other one squeezed his jeans clad ass and forced him to come closer and closer to her, even more than what they were (if it was possible)

Suddenly, they weren't merely kissing, they were making out like there was no tomorrow, closed eyes, heavy breathing and moans in an expression of need and lust- and on Jane's side there was a lot of lust concerned, if the size of his arousal was any indication of it… but like it begun, they stopped it (probably because of the elderly lady calling them, suggesting, mad beyond reason, to take a room or she'd call the police to get them arrested for indecency). Suddenly they were looking at each other, blue eyes in green ones, both dark and dilated, their faces inches apart, lips bruised still almost touching and their breathing still heavy and definitely not under control.

"Lisbon, I think you could release me now…" he finally managed to say, after few tries, even if his voice was soft, low and husky, a combination Lisbon had never heard before and was driving her mad with desire. It took her a while to understand what he meant with his words, and when she did, she practically jumped and emitted a cry: her right fingers were still busy playing with his curls, while her left was still… well, it was still on his (toned and too sexy) ass.

"Jane?" she whispered his name like a question, closed eyes, embarrassed, flushed and still out of breath for the experience.

"Yes?" he asked her with the same tone he had used before, like in some kind of dream-state, still lost into her green field. He was no longer sure he wanted her to let it go of him, the sensation of her hands on his body, it was doing things, all sort of beautiful things, to him, body and soul. He was quite sure that now he could die a happy man, after having felt her hands on him. And he was clothed. He didn't dare to even just think about the effect she could have on him if her hands were on his naked body… he'd probably die for a stroke or and heart attack.

"Do you realize you still have your hands on my hips?" she asked in his ear, tempted by his lobe- there was something in her, a monster, a witch, a vampire or she didn't know what else, that was screaming at her of taking that damn lobe between her lips and sucking it just for the pleasure of driving him crazier…

"It's, hum, for personal security. My personal security let me add." He looked with half-closed eyes at his feet, a bit uncomfortable, fighting the urge of grunting and behaving like any other man (with the exception of Rigsby and Cho, they'd never do such… unholy and carnal things to his Lisbon) would in such a situation. He felt like a wolf ready to mark his territory. He felt like the alpha male of so many species he had read and heard about in his life, and a sudden image of a naked Lisbon, lying in bed, marked for life by a rounded, growing belly with a still unborn child of their own, flashed into his imagination, awakening yet again the best in him. Jane didn't even register the grip on her hips was getting stronger and stronger, and that there were probably going to appear bruises on her soft skin in the following days. Not that he'd care. He wasn't even caring about the old lady threatening to call the police any longer.

Meanwhile, lost in her little, perverted world, Lisbon couldn't help but grin, knowing the reason he had been previously so uncomfortable was their close proximity and the effect it had on his sex-deprived body, and, driven crazy by months of needs and wild dreams about the man in her arms, she started to pass her index right finger along his chest, skimming over the soft fabric of his immaculate white shirt, maliciously and not just to play a bit with him or to make fun of the man like he had done with her many times. Also, she wanted to lower the tension between them, just in case his enthusiasm was false. She thought that, deep down, Jane was embarrassed that he had hardened just for a make-out session in the open like that, and with her of all woman, but she was quite sure it was because it had been a long time he had last done something in that line… he needed to know she was quite glad he was having such a reaction, that it was normal and she was cool with that. For this reason and this reason only, without breaking eye contact, she, briefly, skimmed over the fly of his pant before giving up to temptation and biting that so tempting lobe. "C'mon, bad boy, there's no reason to be worried. I'm not mad at you because the kiss turned you on… It's quite the opposite, actually… You know, Jane "she hissed his name, like the serpent while calling Eve "some women may see this as flattering… and I happen to be one of those women."

"Actually, Lisbon… although I'm enjoying this situation… I think we may have gotten a bit lost in the moment…. And I don't want to worry you, but I think that… we lost him..." He froze in the spot, fighting back the urge to run away from everything, from the devil in his arms who was tempting him with her voluptuous curves, and from… from Senior Agent Lisbon, who come back in charge of the Teresa persona with a passion. He didn't know how, but, the moment Teresa left place to Lisbon, he felt it under his fingertips. Was it possible that they were so different, that they wanted things so different, that it had been all an act to avoid problems with Nottingham?

"WHAT? – she screamed, just to lower her voice remembering how many people was around, that they were in a public place (something they had both forgotten while going at it) and they were supposed to be a couple in love. It - Damn Jane, what I'm supposed to tell to Hightower now? Damn, this time she'll fire me for sure!"

"Well, C'mon, Lisbon, let's look at the bright side of the thing…" he said, trying to hide his nose behind his hand as well as he could, well aware of where that conversation was probably going- and of the fact that he kind of preferred when it was leading in direction of a bedroom. Still, this memory, although getting more and more distant, still made him grin and face Lisbon with a shadow of desire and malice in his sea-blue eyes.

"Oh, of course there's a bright side now!" she hissed again, but this time with rage and absolutely zero luxury. The only good thing she was seeing right now was the fact that, remembering what she had done to him (his nose, actually) last time he had played such a stunt with her, he was very, very scared of her possible actions- i.e. her fists. "Ok, Mr. Golden Boy, let's hear, what's the bright side on this whole dam mess?" she asked, exasperated as often with him, facing Jane with lifted eyebrows and hands on her hips- her so inviting and alluring hips that he couldn't help but stare at.

"Of course there's one, woman! – He told her, back in his usual Jane tone, with his megawatt smile, but with still that damn shadow and husky voice that was making Lisbon lose her composure and doubting her abilities and her capacity of resisting the man further more – we got to kiss each other! And, let me tell you something, although I'm well aware of my abilities, I have to admit you're not that bad either, definitely not bad, Lisbon dear…."he whispered with a tone that was supposed to be a joke, but told her, them both actually, a whole different story. For emphasis, he did what she had done earlier, bite her lobe. Once he was done whispering the words into her ear.

"Idiot" she whispered forced as she rolled her eyes, in control enough to force him back away from her comfort zone so that she could to leave; Jane, though, didn't seem to want to hear any of this, so he grabbed her for the shoulders in a sudden and strong (and very, very erotic) movement, forcing her to face him yet again, and suddenly Lisbon found herself yet again in his arms, and his lips were yet again on her own, and if the first time she had been the one to initiate the contact just to allow Jane on a later date to deepen the kiss, this time it was definitely the other way around.

"I think I saw Nottingham looking at us" he told her again with that low, husky and seductive voice of his while indicating a guy on the other side of the road with a minuscule movement of the head. As she turned to look at the guy in question, with lifted eyebrows, and then at Jane again, Lisbon realized that the grinning blonde had been well aware that sad man wasn't Nottingham, but an innocent bystander and that it had been just an excise to repeat the contact, probably scared by the possibility she could get cold feet about a repeat performance. – But apparently I was wrong…not that it matters, because we are a couple and as a couple we are supposed to know how to kiss each other and to know every inch of skin of each other….besides, I think we should do it more often, maybe outside work as well… Just as an exercise for this kind of situations…"

"Bite me, Jane" She whispered forcing herself to leave the too conformable spot in his warm arms, rolling her eyes, her back now to the blonde man who, in a couple of steps, reached her again, still grinning with that particular, unexpected and until then unknown and never seen before light in his eyes.

"I've never thought you were a masochist, Lisbon dear, but it this is what you like, I'll be glad to oblige, once you'll tell me where…" he whispered in her ear, yet again biting a bit her lobe for a fraction of second only. "Only, I think we should wait to be in private this time. I don't feel like giving a show to the old lady…"

She rolled her eyes again, walking at his side while looking for the guy they were _supposed _to follow, smiling annoyed but flattered at the same time by his attentions, and not so secretly amused by his behavior. Her heart was still beating quickly, her breathing was still definitely irregular, her lips were still swollen, she was hot and bothered and still felt the sensation of butterflies in her stomach that she welt whenever she was close to a man she wanted.

After that apocalyptic first kiss, they remained on the assignment for four more days, with Jane kissing her (making out with her more and more every time) every time he thought it was necessary –just for the operation's sake and to keep their cover, obviously. Which she knew weren't that many, but as she had told him that day, she didn't mind the physical contact with him, not any longer. To be fair, she actually enjoyed it, a lot, and was flattered to be the woman who had re-awakened the beast hidden in the always calm and "plain" Patrick Jane with such a passion. She had decided to treasure those few moments, because she knew chances were he'd change his mind once back in the real world.

They had been back in the so-called real world for a week, and for a whole week she had avoided being alone with Jane, preying every time they were together he wasn't going to bring in the make-out sessions done while undercover. She wasn't quite sure why, though. Of course, professional, on the book team-leader Lisbon was both embarrassed and furious she had left things escalade in such a way between her and her team's consultant, but the red-blooded female in her craved his touches, his caresses and his caresses, and that was scaring both sides of her- she didn't know if she could resist the man's charms any longer, she wasn't sure that, had he proposed to act on their attraction, shed' been able to deny him nights and nights of infinite carnal pleasure under the soft, warm covers of her bed or hidden somewhere at the CBI like two horny teenagers. To make it worst, the part of her who craved that specimen and couldn't stop thinking about how they had make-out and how she'd like to make in pieces every single piece of clothing covering what she was sure was an extraordinary sexy body was actually disappointed he wasn't looking for a way, a moment to bring their attraction and what they were supposed to do about it (beds, tables, pavements, couches, desks, walls…) up. She knew she wasn't making it any easier for the man, with the lack of communication on her side, but, if he wanted to talk about it, he could have done it already, like he had always done about everything and everyone in the past. So, since he hadn't brought it up for a whole week, she figured up he didn't need to talk about it, or didn't want to, already regretting his actions and his words. Chances were he had been just, for once, professional, and had really acted in order to avoid being caught by Nottingham. Until that night seven days later, when, to celebrate the end of the Nottingham jointed investigation, the team was supposed to go to a local bar called Kristie's… but, when she closed her office, in the bullpen Lisbon didn't find her team…

Jane was the only one in the semi-dark bullpen, and, if she was honest with herself, Lisbon had to admit that, while he slowly approached her with yet again that look in his eyes, moving slowly like he was a predator studying his prey, she felt that sensation once again in her belly… Even if they hadn't touched each other in over a week, even if he hadn't touched her yet again, her heart was again and already beating quickly, her breathing was again and already definitely irregular, her lips were trembling and hot with desire, she was hot and bothered and she again felt the sensation of butterflies in her stomach that she welt whenever she was close to a man she wanted- a sensation she was feeling on and off since she had first laid her eyes on him a long time before.

She forgot about the team when, in silence, he took her hand in his one, and drove her back into her office, guiding the woman, his boss, on the couch he had brought her without turning off any lights. She forgot about them, she stopped to care about them like she forgot and stopped to care about rules and regulations and so on. She didn't care about who they were any longer; the only important thing was getting rid of all the tension, getting rid of the clothes, getting rid of the past and the people behind the masks, what mattered was the lips locked, the skin against skin contact, and the fact that they were together, even if it hadn't happened how they had planned, even if they hadn't planned it at all, even if they are both broken and had everything and everyone against them, and the happiness they knew they could find only with each other, only together.

Not that they cared that much about it, anyway. After all, all they cared about was losing themselves in the other person in their arms- that, they no longer were planning of stopping any time soon.


	11. Jealous Jane, fancy party and Mashburn

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Disclaimer: ok, wait a sec, let me check on my legal papers...no, it's not here, not even here, ah, wait, I got it! Uhm, nope, I don't own the Mentalist, just my season 1 dvds- season 2 set didn't come out here in Italy yet.

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**title **Murder on the dancefloor  
**prompt Jealous and possessive Jane, dressing up for some kind of party, with Walter mashburn in the middle of all of it- suggested byLysjelonken/Zanny, with my greatest excuses because in the last period I've negled your stories and I'm such a fan of your works you can't even start to imagine! ****rating **_T  
_**words count **5187  
**pairing**; Jane/Lisbon; Lisbon/Mashburn  
**summary **. _Jane discovers Mashburn is attending the same party, made by the CBI, he and the team are attending. is the billionaire there on his own, or did Lisbon invited him, after refusing Jane's suggestion of sahring the car for the evening? _  
**Note:** made thanks to Lysjelonken's suggestion. I have to say, I'm surprised you wasn't aware of how much I love what you write, and I'm honored you like what I write as well. Recently, for personal issues that made me feel rather depressed, I've neglected your stories a bit, and to make up for that, I've written, with your prompts, not one but 3 stories (even if one includes only jealous and possessive jane) that I'll update in the next few days. As always, thanks millions of times to every one who read and review! **note 2: **the title is a song by Sophie Ellis Baxtor I happened to love few years back, don't read too much into it.

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Everybody in the bullpen can see that there's something if not wrong at least odd, and that there's some kind of tension, so thick that it could be cut with a knife. Everybody knows that there's nothing normal about Patrick Jane, almighty consultant, known-it-all mentalist and always sure of himself, being sat on his couch, clearly nervous and with what seem sweating hands, with eyes focused on a certain door. The fact that he keeps leaving his place, take two steps just to come back to sit and then leaving again makes it all even stranger. after all, he didn't do anything wrong, he has been in best behavior, so there's no reason for him to go in that room to ask for forgiveness or to calm down the ire of his boss.

Rigsby doesn't eat, too surprised by the uncommon sight in front of him. Van Pelt giggles with tears of happiness and trepidation, sensing why the man is so nervous and doesn't know exactly how to behave. Cho looks at the consultant with his always present false lack of feelings, but by the slightly movement of his eyebrows it's clear that the agent of Asian origins is asking himself what the blonde is waiting for, since this has been a long time coming.

Their breath dies in their throats as they see Jane standing in front of her door, ready to knock (another sign there's obviously something weird about his behavior). For the last time, he clenches his fists, passes his palms on his trousers and decides that yes, he'll enter, and he'll try to be as cool as he can be about this whole thing. And, mostly, he'll try to not scare the hell out of Lisbon. He is sacred enough for the both of them and the worst thing is that he doesn't even know exactly why he is nervous and pacing through the bullpen in the first place.

After all, it's not like he is going at ask her out on real date, right? It's just a thing between friends, and only to save gas and time. After all, they both are supposed to attend this damn event some politician is sponsoring to get money for the CBI, and since his new place is just a couple of blocks from her apartment and he'd have to pass in front of it go to the reception, he doesn't see why they should get two cars. After all, it's like catching two birds with a stone, more or less.

Finally (almost) back in control of all his body-functions, with his trademark grin he "enters" in Lisbon's office, and without waiting for her to notice his arrival or to try to force him out or to try to understand why he is there in the first place, he simply goes to sit on the couch he brought for her in a spur of the moment, crossed legs and hands behind his head. He isn't going to break the silence, though. Where is the fun in bothering Lisbon if he gives her all the answers and doesn't give her the chance of being bothered up in the first place?

It takes her 10 long minutes to exhales soundly, while, finally, lifting her gorgeous emerald eyes from the paperwork to look at him annoyed, and, oh, the size his grin takes as she makes that expression! He simply adores it. "What do you want, Jane." It's not even really a question, more like a statement. She knows him too well for not being well aware that, every time he has that expression printed on his face, it's because he is up to something, and the fact that lately he has behaved, it can just mean that whatever he is up to it will be at least 10 times worst than usual.

"I was thinking…"

"Oh my God, you are thinking! Let me call the CNN, they have to make the whole world aware of it!" she grins, feeling somehow victorious, taking her phone and faking dealing a number, while looking at Jane with a certain light in her eyes, a light she gets every time they banter this way- he'd die to see his own expression when they do such a thing.

"Really, Lisbon, I think I told you sarcasm is the lowest form of wit." He points out as he mocks being hurt just to humor Lisbon (he knows she secretly adores it. She is crazy about the fact that he is one of the few men that can make her smile and laugh). "Anyway, like I was trying to say, this Friday there's the fundraising party at the Boehme Hotel…"

"Sometimes, Jane, your talent for stating the obvious shocks me" she says, dramatically, as he has paused for few, long minutes for theatrical reasons and theatrical reasons only. He may have stopped being the jerk he was in his youth, but maybe he has been under the spotlights for too long, and there's this showman persona who every now and then makes an appearance and he really can't help it, especially when Lisbon is concerned. He just loves how this side of him drives her crazy, it brings out the fire in her eyes, and, even if it's a fire generated by anger, it's always worth it.

"I realized that I have to pass in front of your place anyway, so I thought that maybe…"

"No" she cuts him off, her eyes yet again focused on the paperwork and not Jane, which, for the man, is kind of disappointed. He definitely wasn't waiting for a strict "no" even before ending his sentence. He knew he had to fight his way into this, but Lisbon doesn't seem to want to hear any of it.

"No?" he asks in disbelief literally jumping from the couch, standing in front of her desk with hands on his hips, driven madder and madder by the fact that she keeps refusing facing him, too taken by her paperwork. "What the hell does it mean no? You haven't even left me end my sentence, how do you know what I was going to say?"

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe, in the long six years I had to deal with you and your stunts and your antics I've learned something" she says with a smile of triumph, but still neglecting the man in front of her if her eyes. "Or maybe, as you once said, our minds are in sync."

"I'd be more than glad to escort you to the party, Lisbon. Will you allow me to?" he asks again, this time in front of her, smiling with his most charming smile, and, even if he is aware of the fact that it's rather sophomoric of him and he doesn't know exactly why he is so hell-bent on forcing her to accept, he still does it.

"No" she repeats yet again, sure and serious. She isn't humoring him or driving him crazy. She is just speaking her mind, and, Jane isn't exactly sure of what he is feeling right now, but he is quite sure there's a small ache in her chest…

"Ok" he admits defeated, making his best puppy dog eyes expression. Mother Teresa can't resist it, he knows it. Maybe she'll not accept his invitation, but she'll never refuse him an explanation, of that much he is sure. "May I at least know why are you denying me the pleasure of your company on the voyage from your place to the party?"

"I think I made pretty clear in the past that, if I can avoid having you driving me places, I prefer it."

"Ok, I promise to respect the speed limit and be careful with my driving. Are you ok coming with me now?"

"No" she says, for the third time. He is starting to get seriously annoyed by her behavior; who knows, maybe it's how she usually feels when he doesn't listen to her and annoy the hell out of his Lisbon… he'll definitely start to behave a bit more from now on.

He doesn't answer her, doesn't try to force an answer out of Lisbon either, not with words, at least. Jane simply sits at her desk, arms on the wood and chin on an elbow, looking with yet another puppy dog expression to the cold-hearted woman.

10 minutes later, she gives up, and looking at the man quite mad with him. She hates when Jane inquires in people's lives even when he shouldn't, and when she is the person he tries to manipulate his ways into, it's even worse. Maybe that's the reason her voice raises of an octave as she silently cry at him, exasperated and frustrated. "Listen, Jane, there are already too many rumors about the two of us as things are. I don't feel like adding fuel to the fire, ok? And, if we showed up together, all dressed up for a fancy party in that excuse of a car that every woman finds so lovely, people would make assumptions, and I hate when people make assumptions, especially if it's _me_ they are making assumptions about!"

"…Rumors..." he asks, in disbelief, jolting awake back her last sentence. Of course, he has heard of it, but he thought that the team was exaggerating, or making fun of him, when they reported of the last gossip involving the boss and the consultant… besides, it was well known that Jane was (still) on the team for his closing-cases rate. Just a stupid or a pig could believe that the only reason Lisbon accepts him is because of wild sex in that attic of his or on her (or, as it is called by the one knowing he has been the one purchasing it, their) couch, also because he'd never have sex with Lisbon in the attic, in his make-shift bed, or on a couch, and at the office nevertheless. He'd make tender and sweet and slow love to her in a soft bed, enlightened by just a bedside lamp or the trembling flame of a candle. Not that he has thought about it. There's o reason at all that he should think about Lisbon in that way.

"Yes, rumors, Jane, the silly and impossible ones involving the two of us, the ones you are well aware of, and now, if you don't mind" she says indicating the door "I'd have to end this reports for the boss, and I'd rather prefer being calm and quiet and on my own while doing it."

As he leaves her office in silence, hands in his pockets, he doesn't know what he is more disappointed in, if the fact that she told him no, or because she called silly and impossible the rumors about the two of them; after all, even if they were together, it wouldn't be that weird, he is quite sure of that. He has been a good partner for his late wife, Angela told him so many times and he knows it for being true, and, if they were together, him and Lisbon, he'd never allow her to regret choosing him. Not that he has thought about it, or he is thinking about it. It's just a matter of Pride. Or so Patrick Jane repeats himself.

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Friday comes, and when he enters in the rich and adorned ballroom of the Boehme hotel, Jane is already annoyed. He still can't forgive Lisbon for her "no"; after all, according to him her reasoning has been absolutely stupid. He told her he was going to drive more according to her style. He told her they were going to as friends and that as friends they shouldn't bother with rumors, but did she listen to him? It's barely a miracle she listens to him when work is concerned. Lisbon hearing him out on her private life would be a sign of the end the world approaching.

Still, he looks around searching for the well known dark haired woman, whishing for her attention and waiting for his plan to charm his way back into her heart to get in motion. He may have not been able to convince Lisbon to share the entire evening with him, but he can still be around her 'till the orchestra will stop to play. He still have until at least 2 am to bother her, a good five and half hours if she'll stay until the end, and he has all the intentions of forcing her to. Only the idea makes him smile, and seeing well known dark naturally curly hair makes his smile grows of ten sizes. It's with certain trepidation, knowing too well what will happen in few minutes time, that he walks in direction of the small group of people where she is, dressed with a stunning long black dress with accents of dark green here and there that hugs her every curve perfectly.

"Lisbon, dear, finally, here…" he stops talking. He stops smiling. Probably, if someone would check his vitals right at the moment, they would discover that he has stopped breathing and that his heart isn't beating- at least not as it would. He feels like someone gave him a cold shower. He feels in shock. He feels, and he doesn't even exactly sure why, betrayed by Lisbon, like an incredible sufferance just fells upon him.

Then, as the man who's keeping his _damn dirty and filthy _hand on her hip finally acknowledges the presence of the consultant and turns to face the blonde, all Patrick Jane can think of, facing that _damn dirty and filthy _grin on the dark haired man's face is… rage and possessiveness, something he hasn't felt in so long. He has almost forgot how one is supposed to feel in this kind of situations, he almost isn't remembering how being an alpha male fighting for dominance, because that's exactly what it is. He is the male leader of the pack, fighting for having his woman, battling his enemy, Walter Mashburn, to get the heart and yes, he can admit it now, even the body, of the dark haired beauty. Now, finally, all his dreams, all his insecurities, his odd behavior with her of the last few months have a reason to exist in the first place. He has fallen for Lisbon, for his Teresa, and he hasn't been able to see he was, is in love with her… and, from the looks the team (and the whole CBI, for what it matters) are sending them, he'd say everybody knows about this "relationship", everybody but not the two individuals who are supposed to be aware of this fact in the first place. Even Mashburn seems to be screaming at Jane that he knows his little dirty secret (not that there's something dirty about his feelings for Lisbon, his love is of the purest kind, Jane knows it). He seems to silently scream to the consultant that he'll never get the girl, because the "damn dirt and filthy billionaire" is going to (after all, he already did once). The fact that Lisbon seems clueless to this little game just makes everything so much better for the damn dirty and filthy bastard, like knowing, or at least, becoming aware, of Jane's affection would trigger something in her, a required feeling of love as strong as the one Patrick Jane seems to feel for the dark haired beauty.

He doesn't know what makes him calmly hurry up towards the duo, but he does, and he looks at them, at Mashburn's hands on Lisbon's side, at Lisbon looking uncomfortable at it. He can't help but smile when he sees her smiling at him, with this huge smile of happiness, and he can't help but grin when, after a fraction of second, shyly, she bits her lips with dilated pupils when her eyes fall on his white tux-clad persona.

It's not uncommon for Jane to awaken certain thought into woman and yes, he is well aware of, few men as well. E has always been aware of his good look, of his charm, and he has always used it at his advantage, both in the past and now. He has always known that part of the reason "his" Lisbon can't stay mad for him longer than 10 minutes is due to his eyes his smile. He knows she has always been a goner for his smile and his blue/green eyes, he has used it as his advantage in the past with the agent and he is planning of doing the same now. And even if Mashburn gets the hint, even if he sees the fight into Jane's expression and the desire in Lisbon's eyes, he still stubbornly refuses to let it go of the woman.

Without breaking eye-contact with his opponent, Jane puts his right arm around her naked shoulders, allowing his fingers to dance a sensual dance on her soft skin. From the point where his palm is, he can feel the heat radiating from her body, so suddenly, he can feel her heartbeat accelerating, her breathing pattern becoming more erratic (if he could measure her pressure in the same way, he bets it would be a way higher than usual, higher then when she is around Mashburn, that's for sure). Jane doesn't exactly smiles; he is just showing on his face that he is, indeed, the winner.

And Mashburn still refuses to give up, his grip on her waist becoming stronger and stronger, so strong Lisbon panics at the idea that she'll have bruises on her pale skin in a couple of days. And everything because he still refuses to allow the other man to win. He doesn't have anything against Jane, he is quite sure that, in another place, another time, in other circumstances, they'd be good friends, like partner in crimes, but that's not the case, because, deep down, they are very, very similar- or, at least, so Mashburn thinks.

As many other billionaires like him, Mashburn doesn't see behind the façade, the mask. Right now, he isn't looking at the man who will not lose the love of his life, who's fighting for love and affection. Mashburn sees Patrick Jane, as self-centered as he is, trying to keep control over Lisbon, trying to remain at the centre of her world. To the billionaire, as lovely and intriguing as she is, and she is lovely and intriguing, it's just another woman to drag to bed. The only reason he is so intrigued by Lisbon as Teresa Lisbon and not just the feminine body it's that he actually has to chase her; he has to convince her, because this is Senior Agent Lisbon, always in control, always in command. It's like playing cat and mouse, letting the mouse believing she is the evil cat, though. When they'll have their repeat performances, and they will have it before the end of the party, he swears on his beloved money that she'll be the one begging him to take her, to drag her to bed, Jane or not Jane. Walter Mashburn has plans for this little dark haired pixie, and he'll not allow that blond to ruin them for him.

"I heard you solved the Red John case, _Patrick_" he hisses his name, grinning with dark and evil eyes at the man in front of him, quite sure the man will be so hurt by the mere sound of his nemesis' name that he'll give up on Lisbon. Strange enough, it's the opposite. What Mashburn says and how he says it just tells Jane again and again what sort of creature (he doesn't want to call him man, he doesn't deserve it) he is, how damn dirty and filthy he is. He just drives him mad even the more possibility of Lisbon being touched and explored by this sorry excuse of a man. He knows that they've already been together once, and he knows it has been his fault, but it was different. Back then he needed to stay alone in his darkness to keep the team, and especially his Lisbon, safe, and he knows he couldn't ask her to live his celibacy with him. It wasn't fair. Even back then, he, somehow, knew she'd come back to him, that Mashburn was just another one night stand. But now, now she no longer has to settle down for one night stands. Now that Red John is no more, now that he has stopped to wear his ring from few months, now that he is still there with them, still free and not a murderer, now he can be the man she has always deserved, and he'll never allow her to settle down for anything less. She doesn't deserve it. She doesn't deserve what dear old Walt is planning of giving her, a quickie against a wall, she deserves to be worshipped and carefully and slowly and sweetly made love to, anything less.

"_We_ solved the Red John case" he clarifies, his grip on her shoulder stronger and stronger as he forces their body to getting closer and closer, so close she is almost collapsing against his chest. "Without _Teresa _I know that I'd never been able to capture him." The last part of the sentences is spoken (even if it's more like a whisper) while gulping, with such a love and affection she has never felt before in her life. As she briefly looks at his eyes, the double meaning isn't lost to either of them. She knows he means that he'd never be able to solve the case, but he also means that he'd never let him live, hadn't she been there. She feels her eyes getting teary, her hands have moved to stay on his chest, on the fabric of his jacket so soft underneath her fingertips, she can feel the heat radiating from his body, his heartbeat quickens, his breathing becoming a bit erratic, his eyes widening, and Lisbon simply knows that if she'll go on her tip-toes they'll end up kissing- and something tells her she'll not mind it. Unfortunately, someone else feels it too, and it's not only Jane, because it's away from Jane she is taken, by an arm around her waist.

It takes her a while to remember that Walt is there with them, and that he has probably the one pushing her away from that so inviting heat coming from her consultant, and it's a scary thought, that she was feeling so much at home there, and she feels so lost now, that she is no longer in the arms of a blond but of a brunette. The man is getting annoying.

"Teresa didn't tell me you were coming" Jane hisses, repeating once again her given name. He knows that Lisbon hates when Mashburn does it, and the fact that she is allowing him, her consultant, to do it, and with such a beautiful flush, it's encouraging. He just hopes that Mashburn will take the bait and answer his indirect questions. _Is the billionaire here because Lisbon has asked him to? Is he here with her? Did she know about his presence?_

"Well, it has been a surprised for our lovely lass as well. Teresa" and at this mention she rolls her eyes, fighting the urge to slap the billionaire, making Jane extremely happy "wasn't even aware I had been invited in the first place. But, you knows, I still owned a favor to the CBI for that old story, so I thought, why deny them of my presence and of my money?"

"Oh, well, then it explains why Teresa is still in your company even if she can't help but wanting to spend time with _me_." Lisbon doesn't know how, but somehow, Jane and Mashburn end face-to-face, few centimeters apart, looking like ready to put on a fight, and she, or at least her presence, has been forgotten. Even the way they are talking about her indicates that they are behaving like she wasn't there or like she didn't have free will.

"Maybe she wants it in your dreams, Jane. Teresa is with me because she knows I'm a sure bet, especially in a certain department, a department that, according to reliable sources, you haven't made any exercise in a long time, while me…" he just moves his eyebrows in a suggestive ways, letting Jane (and everyone around) understand what he is exactly talking about. Lisbon can't help but getting redder and redder, and she can't help but feeling the need to punch him. What she saw in him when they had that one night stand years prior, it's a mystery to her now.

"That's everything that there is to you, right? You just care about her in that ways, like you care about any other woman in just that way… tell me, how long did you wait to have sex with some fake super-model after you've been together? Or, I don't know, have you ever dreamt of her?"

"Well, at least I know every cord of our lady here; I know how to make her lose control, how to force her to let it go… I know how she is when she allows someone else taking control, I know how she screams my own name when she is reaching the edge of pleasure and can't take it any longer, I know how she moves and the sound she makes when she is in bed with a man who deserves her body…"

Shock leaves place to pure and simple rage as the man keeps describing their encounter, and Lisbon has to close her eyes and change her breath patterns in order to relax a bit and avoid doing something she'd end up regretting. She can't believe the gut of this man… First, he never asked her how she felt after that, and what she wanted, he simply took it as he liked it (she didn't like it that much, she didn't even had that agonizing release but faked her own orgasm because she kind of felt he wasn't going to allow her to leave that bed if she didn't have one. She even regretted having allowed Mashburn to bed her, afterwards), and second… well, it's not classy at all telling this things to other men, especially if she is present. _Who the hell does he think he is? I don't care what the boss said. I'm not going to say here with him for another minute, listening to him spilling his venom on Jane and me. Now I'm gonna punch him, and we'll see how much he talks after that!_

Only when she opens her eyes, taking a big breath and positioning her fist to hit the "whatever horrible term may be used to describe Walter Mashburn" man she realizes that there's no reason to.

Walter Mashburn is with his ass on the pavement, massaging his chin and trying to say something about broken teeth, and Jane is standing at her side busy rubbing his right hand, extremely satisfied and with that aura of possessiveness and anger and that dangerous and violent vein so visible in his dilated pupils… she knows she'd not think about that certain things, not when Patrick Jane of all is involved, and not when they are surrounded by every member of the CBI and few of the greatest politic figures of the entire State Of California, but… apparently, with Jane, there's obviously more than it meets the eye (and more than the 3 pieces suits, and the tea and the coward scared of guns and violence always hiding at her back and the eternal smile and grin), because there' nothing hotter or better than Jane getting into alpha male mode and territorial for her.

And just when she is thinking it, here he is, her consultant, doing something even sweeter, that makes him appear 10 times better in her eyes, because, while she is tracing invisible drawings with her fingertips on that hideous shirt she wants to see gone as soon as they'll be somewhere private, just when he can see her wicked intentions pictured on her face… their song starts. And from the way he sweetly looks at her, she immediately understands he did it on purpose (and she doesn't want to know why). So, forgotten about Walter, she shifts back into "sweet and caring Lisbon" mode, and, once cupped his face with both her hands and gone on her tip-toes, she gives him a slow, sweet but yet sensual kiss on the lips (hoping that he could get everything she has felt for years for him) and then collapses in his chest, breathing content at closed eyes allowing his breathing and beat of his heart to sing a lullaby of life and love to her- she is quite sure they are following the rhythm of the song in the same way they bodies are dancing following the notes she has loved so much in the past and she still does.

"Lisbon?" she doesn't answer, just makes a sound, still at closed eyes against his chest, to make Jane realizes that she got he was talking with her and that she is still, somehow, with him. "Now that we've both silently declared our mutual love, does this mean you're my girlfriend?" she nods in his chest, smiling a smile the size of Canada.

"Lisbon? I know I've manipulated the events just to get to dance with you once again, and I know that what I'm going to ask you it's not exactly what you'd like to hear from me…" he tells her at low voice, unsure and a bit scared, and she trembles with excitement. She wonders what he'll ask her… is it going to be something dirty, maybe something sexual… after all, Jane has always stroke her as a open-minded kind of man… maybe he can't stay no longer having all those horrible clothes between them, and needs to drag her to the closest private place in order to have their wicked ways with each other and to mark her as his own through wild sex… "But the adrenaline rush is washing off, and I think my hand is broken. Would you mind driving me to the hospital?"

As they part, she can't help but laugh, because that's her usual, always in need of attention and help of the physical variety Jane, the one she kind of liked as person first, that one she had chose as her trusted friend in a later time, the one who has become, at a certain point, her best friend just to turn into the man she was, is in love with.

As, still smiling, she brings him away from the party, she'd swear Van Pelt is squirting like a mouse, Rigsby is at open mouth and a bit annoyed, and busy giving something that resembles bills to Cho who, for a fraction of second, smiles.

Not that she notices them anyway. She is too concentrated on Jane, wondering how their life together will be in 25 years time….


	12. 99,comic book character, possessive Jane

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Disclaimer: ok, wait a sec, let me check on my legal papers...no, it's not here, not even here, ah, wait, I got it! Uhm, nope, I don't own the Mentalist, just my season 1 dvds- season 2 set didn't come out here in Italy yet.

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**title **Rejected  
**prompts: **Any comic book carachter, the number 99 (from the comic_italy community) and possessive Jane (from Lyselonken) **rating **mmm...this one isn't that bad. I'd say a K+ should be enough._  
_**words count **1938 words  
**pairing**; Jane/Lisbon; Lisbon/Hal Jordan (one sided attraction)  
**summary **. _Hal Jordan, Tommy's buddy in the air force, shows up unexpected at Teresa's doorstep after they have met just once trough her brother. And he can honestly that, even if for different reasons, they are both shocked... _ **Note:** made thanks a mix of Lysjelonken's suggestion (possessive Jane) and and an old prompt from the community of fan fiction writers of comics_italy on lj, that asked of writing about any comic character and the number 99, and since it was Lisbon's number on the jersey in red badge (if it's not, let's pretend it was. And besides, I'm 50% sure it was) I couldn't not doing a Mentalist cross-over. and so, I cross-overed the mentalist world with the DC UNiverse, through the character of Hal Jordan aka Green Lantern. If you don't know him (and I do, because few years back I had a terrible Green Lantern period, and I was crazy for Hal) you just need to know that he is a tombeur de femmes, and doesn't like taking no as an answer for girls, probably because he isn't used to 8I don't remember seeing him having a dry spell, if I have to be honest...)As always, thanks millions of times to every one who read and review( yes laura and zanny, I0m talking about you two!)!

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Teresa Lisbon had met the Air Force Pilot known as Hal Jordan a couple of weeks before, when Tommy, brother to the CBI investigator and team-mate to Hal, had introduced the two of them at some party given by the Air Force. Tommy's intent had been quite clear right from the start: for some unknown reason, Tommy liked this Hal character, and hoped for Teresa to fell head over heels for him and end up, in a not so distant future, marrying him. After all, getting Teresa married had been Tommy's intent for many, long years, she knew that, and, the older she got, the worst her brother become. For Tommy's misfortune, she hadn't given a second thought to this guy in particular.

So, when one evening, two weeks later, she opened the door with a smile on her lips without bother to look who may have been (like she was waiting for someone) and found , instead, the guy in question at her doorstep, she could say she was honestly surprised, and her wide-eyes were quite the statement for it. Obviously, not as surprised as Hal was- after all, every man in his right mind would have been not surprised, finding a delicious brunette dressed with just red micro shorts and a jersey with the name "Lisbon" in bold letters and the number 99 on it (He was intrigued by this thing, was it the number of one of her brothers in some team, the year she joined the force, nothing at all?). But maybe surprise wasn't the right world to use, since Hal kept devouring the petite brunette with his eyes, and if his expression was telling her something, was that he was planning on devouring her not with just that part of his body.

"Hal, that's such a surprise! I wasn't waiting to see you again in Sacramento so soon!" finally aware of her (lack of) clothes, Teresa, with cheeks dark red, was desperately trying to hide her body behind the door. That woman, she was so cute and lovely… not only he hadn't hide the fact that he'd not mind give it a try with the gal, but Tommy had encouraged him to, telling him there was nothing wrong with it. After all, with dark curly, shoulder length hair, the green eyes (and he was a sucker for green), the petite but yet toned body (or so it seemed) and that delicious red tone on her cheeks that appeared whenever she was embarrassed… she was so exciting, and besides, she was his kind of girl (or at least, the one he chased more. after all, if a woman was breathing, legal and good looking, she was his kind of woman).

"Last week, when you invited me over to dinner, I really appreciated it, and since I was in town for a meeting, I thought it was right about time to pay my dues." He told her with his "tombeur de femmes" smile, sure that she'd melt in a matter of seconds. After all, the excuse of the dinner was a bit forced, since she had invited him over just because Tommy was with him and had insisted because "Poor Hal has just been dumped by that cold-hearted bitch of Jill Perlman, who's sleeping her way into the Air Force, and I'm the only he knows here, and I can't leave him all alone in an unknown place, because he needs me and my psycho -physic help…"

"Oh, I don't think so. I mean, if I'd accept your offer, I should ask Tommy to pay me dinner as well. Besides, I already told you, you don't need to, honestly. See you!" she tried to close the door, but he was quicker, and, putting his right foot in the way, avoided her from reaching her task. She was clearly annoyed at this point, but Hal wasn't caring, he wasn't even seeing it. He was just looking at her with yet another one of his seductive smiles.

_She is playing the hard to get. I like chasing after a girl… it doesn't matter, at the end, she'll end up at my feet like every other girl! _"I insist. We're having dinner and I'll buy it. I can allow you to choose the place, but I'm telling you, I'm going to be back in half an hour and I need you to be ready!" Without adding any further words or bother to wait for her reply, the dark haired man turned on his heels to come back to his rented car, when, suddenly…

"I'm sorry, what?" She screamed at his shoulders, opening the door with such force that it went to collide with the wall. She reached the man, and, grabbed him for the shoulders, forced him to turn to look at her; she was mad beyond reason, her eyes were dark red with rage. "I'm not going to have dinner with you, because, like any other normal people, I like to plan my evenings and I happen to already have plans for this evening in particular."

"Ok, well, rescheduling it to tomorrow it's no big deal for me. Do you prefer lunch or dinner?" he answered her with his "no female can resist me" grin.

"Ok, listen; I don't know what Tommy told you about me. I don't care what kind of idea you got in your head. Knowing someone from my brother's world has been nice, but let me clarify this: I'm not going to have dinner, lunch or any other meal with you, not tomorrow, not today, and not in the future, never, ever. And, if I have to be honest, as a cop, I think that knocking at a stranger's door at almost ten pm asking to have lunch with them, is rather weird and stalker-ish, and it's definitely not what a normal, sane person would do."

"Maybe I have some secrets I hope you'll unreal very, very slowly… and very, very sensually…" he told her in his most seductive voice, sure that she'd give up as soon as she'd heard the words.

"Or maybe you just happen to have the biggest ego this part of the States, and I know people with a huge ego, so, believe me when I tell you I know what I am talking about" at this point, her voice seemed a mix of angry barking and the hissing of some vicious serpent, and even if Hal was aware that it wasn't exactly the sexiest thing of the planet, he couldn't stop. After all, Teresa was making things difficult for him, but it was in moments like those that things got funnier, that the chase was better for the ones like him.

"Were you talking about me?" Hal turned, and saw, at the side of a baby blue old fashioned car, a blonde dressed in an old fashioned 3 pieces suite; the pilot had barely time to register the image that the guy was walking in their direction, balancing few full shoppers in his arms. "I'm sorry, but I've heard you talking about the biggest ego this side of the States, and thought you were talking about me, Lisbon"

"Oh, please, how many times do I have to repeat you that the world doesn't resolve around you, Jane?" smiling, without any trace of the embarrassment she had felt whit Hal, like she had forgotten her lack of clothes, Teresa smiled sweetly and almost seductively at the man, and, once freed him form half of the shoppers, she come back inside, turning at the last second to say a last couple of words to the brown head. "Thanks for the visit and tell Tommy it's time to drop it."

Saying these last famous words, she went inside, while the man she had called previously Jane remained for another instant outside, contemplating with pride Hal's extremely upset face. "You are used to get all the women you want, and, even if you used all your best weapons, Lisbon has refused you, and it's the first time it's happening. Am I right? No, there's no need for you to answer, it's a rhetorical question, and I know the answer. My name's Patrick Jane and I work as a consultant for the CBI, Lisbon's unit" Jane shook friendly hands with the man, a huge smile that seemed to indicate a nice person. His grip, though, got stronger and stronger, turning into a grip as the man got colder and colder, his eyes reflecting jealousy, possessiveness, rage and definitely a dangerous man. "Listen to me clearly, now I'll enter in this house, and if I see you again around here without any actual reason, or if you even just think of coming close to her, I swear, I'll not restrain myself, and believe me, I'm not as defenseless as I may seem; I have the potential to make your life a living hell, and believe, I'll do it if I'll have to. Teresa and me, we are make for each other, we're star crossed lovers, and soon I'll tell her that I just don't like her, but that I love her and how I just want to spend the rest of my life making her happy. I don't have intention of losing her to someone like you, who just thinks of her like a body good enough for warming his bed for few days, or that has the showinistic need of demonstrate to his army buddies that he can get every girl he wants"

Without adding other words, Jane entered, slamming the door on Jordan's face, leaving the man outside to lick his wounds, his eyes facing the void and not the wood in front of him. After all, it had been quite a revelation and a definitely new and unexpected turns of events. The "poor" man was still in shock. "Rejected, me Hal Jordan, I've been… rejected…"

"One last thing" Jane told coming back outside, again shacking friendly the hand of the guy who was still in shock. He knew there was no reason to play this little trick with this sorry excuse of a man, but he really couldn't help it, Jordan's expression was simply too tempting. So, smiling happily and carefree, while Jordan was still looking at the door now half open, still shaking his hand, the mentalist put his left hand on the other guy's shoulder and went closer and closer to him, so close he was whispering into his ear.

"Have you ever smelt a dead mouse? Do you remember how it smells? ?" Hal, like he wasn't there, like he wasn't really paying attention, nodded. "Good. I just put a dead mouse into your pocket… and it doesn't matter how many times you'll wash this jacket, you'll always smell the dead mouse and you'll always feel that smell… and you'll remember you should have never come near my Tess in the first place" Jane hopped back inside, with an amused and proud grin on his face while Jordan, quickly, removed the jacket and threw it on the soil, sending it as far as possible from his body, disgusted and a bit terrified by the mere thought of that… creature in his pocket, on his body.

On the inside, Patrick, leaning against the door at crossed arms, laughed while watching Teresa preparing dinner. It didn't matter that it was just a psychological trick and the mouse was just a piece of paper, it was still incredibly amusing - guy was looking for it. Besides, he probably owned Jane one, because that jacket was simply an insult to good taste…


	13. Sudden Kiss

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Disclaimer: ok, wait a sec, let me check on my legal papers...no, it's not here, not even here, ah, wait, I got it! Uhm, nope, I don't own the Mentalist, just my season 1 dvds- season 2 set didn't come out here in Italy yet.

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**title **Sudden Kiss  
**prompts: Petit J's namesake fan-art (** http: / petit-j. deviantart. com / # /d 3adaqf) **rating **K

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He remembers the many times Lisbon told him (and she still does) he was, is, a good man. She told many times she knew he didn't have in him to commit cold-blood murder. Ah, he had already killed, that was true, but why? It was never about him. Every time he pulled the trigger, or menaced to do such, it was to save someone, to protect someone.

He still doesn't know, though, why, once face-to-face with Red John, he really didn't pulled the trigger of gifted gun. He knows Lisbon says it's because he is a good man, but the truth it's more different. The only reason he didn't pull the trigger, as he heard her calling his name at his back, begging not to, were her eyes. He couldn't see them, this is true, but with his mind… with his mind, he could see her. He could see her desperation, he could see her begging, and he could see her destroyed beyond repair. He could see what he was doing to her… and what it'd do to her if he'd pulled the trigger. And Lisbon, Saint Teresa, Mother Teresa, matron of the lost causes and hell-bent on saving everybody Patrick Jane included, she had suffered too much in her life, had lost too much in her life.

He simply couldn't do that to her, not when he had promised to always save her, to protect her, and, yes, maybe he had never voiced it at loud, but to make her happy as well- she deserved being happy. She deserved being saved after being the savior in so many occasions; she deserved being protected after she had protected him for so many years, both as a co-worker and a friend.

No, he couldn't do that, not when his heart had stopped screaming of sufferance and was slowly healing, starting to dream of not things that had been or could have been, but dreaming of a possible future, a future together, made of all the little silly things he had always loved to do for her. he couldn't help but dreaming of hidden smiles, jumping origami frogs, ponies and emeralds, trust falls, talking about movies to stay awake, faking being married to go undercover, hugs to prove and straightens the affection, rubs of her back when she was stressed or massaging her legs when they were asleep, mind-reading sessions, walking at her side while holding hands, and her smiles…

The damn woman had saved him, saved him from himself, from Red John's torture, form the shadow that was menacing his integrity, and he hadn't realized it until, that day, months prior, he had heard her voice, calling his name… she had saved him, giving him something he didn't even know he was looking for in the first place. She had given him both hope… and love. She had given them in those long years they had been just coworkers, she had given them when they become friends and best friends on a later date, and she had given them in the months following Red John's capture, when, not really believing his nemesis, his only reasons to live was no longer in the picture, ha had almost fall prey to another nervous breakdown, to a slight depression. She had been there for him, with him, like she had always told him she would be… and yet again, Patrick Jane was saved by Teresa Lisbon.

But even now, months after that terrible day, he isn't ready yet to voice those feeling aloud. He is not ready to say, and she isn't ready to know, to believe him either. She probably doesn't even believe herself, trying to deny the deepness of her feelings for the man in question. But… he can't voice them, this is true, but he can't her in the dark, not totally, at least. She needs to understand, to believe there's hope, that he may or may not be thinking about them in that way. There's no way he'll allow her to walk away from what it may be between them, from what the future has in stores for the both of them, together. Only, she has to face her feelings for him first, and accept them, accept that they exist and aren't going to leave just because she wants them to.

So, as she is walking out of the break room past him, Jane stops Lisbon, grabbing her for the arm, and, resting his hand on her elbow, he guides her (speechless and still) form closer to him. She closes her eyes in anticipation, like knowing what he'd like to do, and her breath dies in her throat… but the (agonized) contact doesn't come. He doesn't kiss on her lips, but, strange but true, a simple and sweet and quick peck of his lips on her forehead is ten times as powerful as a "real" kiss would be. She still gets hot, her pupils dilate, she still can't breathe regularly and her heartbeat is still a way quicker than usual. All because of a simple kiss, a simple, small and unexpected kiss on her forehead by her consultant that has opened, is opening, all kind of scenarios to her. She has never thought about Jane in that way, but probably just because she felt like she couldn't, shouldn't, but now that everything is done… now she can, and if a simple, small and unexpected kiss on the forehead did this to her, she wonders what she'll feel when they'll get to kiss for real, like the couple in love they are. Because, at least on her side, there is no chance to deny it any longer: she is in love with her consultant, the blonde pain in the ass Patrick Jane.

"So… I was just… I just hope that… you… understand it, right?" he asks her with hesitation, as nervous as she has never seen him before. She nods, understanding what that small, yet full of promises, kiss means for the both of them, but mostly for him. After all, knowing Jane as long as she does, there's something she has learned about him- Jane has a clever mouth, and his tongue is probably too long for his own good, but only when he or people he loves aren't concerned. He can talk a killer into confessing a murder, but he can't tell the woman he is in love with what he really feels. So… he acts on his feelings, as much as the situations allow him to. He is totally unable to ask Lisbon those questions, he is unable to tell her everything… but he has showed her, he has told her everything through a simple act. _I think I'm in love with you. You are extremely important to me… would you wait for me a little longer, because I can't be there with you yet, but I want you, and I know that I'll eventually reach you, and even if I don't have any right of asking you to… I'd really like if you could wait for me. _

She nods, completely astonished by the sudden revelations, as he leaves the room, without adding further words, and even if she'd like to cry, she doesn't. She doesn't want to have tears in her voice when she'll call DA Kramer to tell him that she isn't going to have that third date with him in two hours time...


	14. What if

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Disclaimer: ok, wait a sec, let me check on my legal papers...no, it's not here, not even here, ah, wait, I got it! Uhm, nope, I don't own the Mentalist, just my season 1 dvds- season 2 set didn't come out here in Italy yet.

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title Rules, Regulations and silver linings -or: What if Cho kept Lisbon's job?(rated T)  
Prompt: what if?

(a/n: spoilers for 3.17, I foyu haven't seen it, don't read it!)

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At the end of the day, once the last cased has been closed, Lisbon is sitting at her "new" desk, enlightened only by a small lamp, waiting to end the last paperwork while dropping a look every now and then to a big, old and dusty book.

"You know, I thought that, being the control freak I thought you were, you'd be at least kind of disappointed by this sudden…degradation."

She smiles as she turns to look at Jane, peacefully sleeping on his couch close to her desk. She can sees the lines on his forehead, evident signal that he is bothered by the fact that he can't understand why she isn't bothered by this situation, and this scenario, seeing Jane being unaware of something (if he is not faking ignorance, that it is) really makes her day. After all, he was the one claiming she was translucent, and now, here he is, oblivious to her reasoning and so sweet in his staying at her side- when she was senior agent, he was always in her office, and now that she is just an agent, he has decided to migrate back to the bullpen.

She stands up and joins him on "his" couch, sitting on the edge near the armrest, and he has to shift, not only to make room for the dark haired former senior agent, but because he wants to see more than her back, as appealing her back may be. He wants to see her eyes, he wants and needs to understand what's beyond this tranquility and happiness. The Lisbon he used to know, he realizes as he studies her carefully and with amazing attention, like a devoted disciple, wouldn't feel those things, wouldn't be so casual about this, but, still, here she is, with the greatest smile he has ever seen on her features.

"Listen, Lisbon, I'm sorry for what happened. If there's something I can do for you…"

"Ah, there's no need to worry, Jane. Besides, it's kind of relaxing, not being in charge of you. I think I'm finally getting why you do what you do, and now that I no longer have to be scared that your stunts will destroy my career I can finally enjoy them like the rest of the team does." She admits, smiling happy, almost laughing. It's not forced, though, but honest and coming from her heart. She can't believe it, but she is happy. "Besides, there is a silver lining in all of this: I'm not your boss any longer…"

Whatever Jane was stinking about is stopped by her close, low, husky and malicious voice, whispering delicately in his ear. She is so close, and this seductive woman seems so different from the usual Lisbon, that he is a bit… he isn't scared, he is just, unprepared to deal with this side of Lisbon. "And, you know, there are no rules that deny a member of a team to fraternize with a civilian consultant… yes Jane I just checked on the rulebook, that is what I was doing with that big, old and dusty book on my desk." She says as she allows her lips to taste the skin of his chin with kisses and lapping and small bites.

Letting himself falling deeper into the couch, Jane can't help but allow the woman to do as she pleases, foretasting what's to come. Somehow, he thinks that it will be unforgettable, and not only because of the office couch involved.

If, having Cho as boos, it's what it takes to having Lisbon as his own property, so be it. He'll learn to deal with it. After all, he used the couch in her office only because it was her office in the first place. And, just as he thinks about the couch and the office, a (perverted) thought crosses his mind…

"So, tell me, Lisbon, is there any rule against indecent use of a private couch into a CBI building?" He grins deepening once again the kiss, and his hands find the hem of her shirt, and the warm skin of her abdomen underneath it. He tickles her, and, taking advantage of the surprise element, he scoops the dark haired agent into his arms, carrying her into her former office with just one idea in his mind.

After all, he never cared about CBI rules and regulations said before, why should he start now when there's an empty building and a closed office with an extremely comfortable couch, brought with just that objective in mind, at their disposal?


	15. Butterfly

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Disclaimer: ok, wait a sec, let me check on my legal papers...no, it's not here, not even here, ah, wait, I got it! Uhm, nope, I don't own the Mentalist, just my season 1 dvds- season 2 set didn't come out here in Italy yet.

an: thanks everybody! I got few new readers and reviewers fro this one, and I'm so happy! I'm not sure how the updates will go on, because I'm currently working on a couple of ideas mentalist-related, but, still, if you have an idea, just pm me or leave a line into a review, I'll try to let you know what I caa do about it!

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Lunch Break at the park

Teresa can't help but smiling at the two children playing on the grass of the Sacramento park near the CBI. She knows it's a rare sight, a sight to treasure. Happiness, in this world, is rare, and doesn't last. She knows it, she has known it her whole life, but, still, whenever she sees it, she can't help but being… consumed by that happiness, especially if it's something as innocent as two children who don't know each other playing together on the grass of her park, running after a butterfly that has been for a couple of minutes on the dark haired girl's curly hair.

It's in moments like that, when she sees such a happiness, that she allows herself to dream, to think, or even just to imagine things. Right now, for example, she is thinking what it will be of the blonde boy and of the dark haired girl. She asks herself where they'll be when they'll be her age, if they'll still know each other, or, who knows… maybe they'll be together, married with their own children. Maybe she'll be a cop, or he'll be, or maybe they'll never see each other again.

And then, as she sees them running to their parents, a woman and a man who are sitting close to each other but aren't into a relationship, she starts to wonder about them, and about herself. She wonders what it will be of the "couple" once they'll leave the park. Are they into an affair? Are they both divorced? Are they seeing each other? Are they working together? Did they just meet for the first time and fell for each other? Are they thinking about bringing the relationship up to the next step? And what about herself? Teresa knows she hasn't been in a relationship that could actually called that way in a long time – at least five years – and she knows the clock is ticking. She isn't getting any younger, and she can't help but wishing for what that woman has, a beautiful daughter, as impossible as it is at the moment. But maybe, things will change soon, right? Maybe, tomorrow she'll meet the man of her life- or maybe she'll meet him here, at the park, maybe she has met him yet and she doesn't know he is the man of her life yet, maybe she has met him, and she'd like for him to be the man of her life but she thinks she'll never be his girl. Maybe in a couple of years' time she'll have a beautiful daughter of her own. Maybe she'll be in a relationship with the father, maybe they'll be married, or maybe the baby, boy or girl she doesn't care, she just feels the need to have a baby to call her own, will be the result of a one night stand of unprotected sex, or maybe she'll get pregnant behind all odds even having safe sex, or maybe she'll give up on looking for a man and she'll just accept that, if she wants to have a child, she'll have to opt for assisted reproduction. She knows it's not that great telling a child that their daddy is subject #345 from page 124 of the catalogue, but, honestly, she doesn't want to fight this possibility right now. If there's something that seeing those children right now is telling her, it's that she isn't getting any younger, and if she wants to have a child, she has to have it sooner rather than later. She knows that nowadays women get pregnant even at 60, but she knows as well that it's dangerous, both for the child and the mother, and it's a risk she doesn't want to take (even if she knows that she'll love her children not matter what, and she'll never give them up). She doesn't want to leave a child, a newborn, alone into the world because mommy died giving birth, and she doesn't want to spend the rest of her life crying for a child that never got the chance to enter into the world because mommy wasn't any longer fit to have him in her womb.

_Maybe I'll think this over in a couple of years' time. _She reflects as she looks again at children chasing the butterfly yet again. She can't help but laughing, trying as hard as she can to mask it- there's no need to pass as a perp in a public park. It's odd enough that she is there, all alone, sitting in a park where normally only families go, but the fact that she is actually… staring at the children, it's definitely not a bonus. But she really can't help it. Whenever she feels down, she comes here, especially if it's such a nice spring day like this one. and she dreams. She dreams of things that are (her current situation, both work and family-related), that may be (what are the children's parents to each other?) and that will never be- which, considering that it's something concerning her situation, it's so depressing she doesn't even laugh when _someone _pats her shoulder from behind.

"Hello babe, do you come here often?" he teases with his damn mega-watt smile, going to seat at her side, and all she can do is scrolling her head, smiling, almost laughing. The man's pretty unbelievable.

"Oh, well, not as often as I'd like. Normally, I come here when that idiot of my consultant does something particularly crazy and goes on my nerves. The problem is, whenever he does such a thing, he causes me so much paperwork I can't leave work the whole night."

"ouch" he fakes being wounded, a hand on his heart. "but I'm sure he at least makes up in personality and good looks"

"Yeah, I'll let you in a secret: murderer widows seem to have a thing for him. I think it's the whole… you know, sticking with your own kind."

"Lisbon, I knew she was the murderer, and I wasn't attracted by her, I was merely faking interest. Mrs. Dash isn't even my kind of woman!" she rolls her eyes, wondering he can claim such a thing. The culprit is a tall, redhead in her middle thirties, fragile but yet elegant and cold enough, interesting, an incredibly smart intellectual that likes hanging around with the upper class, she always speaks her mind and seemed to enjoy mind games as much as Jane does. Not only she is (was, at least, until it come out she had killed her own husband) Jane's type, but she is, even, the perfect copy of (the hatred) Frye. She'd like to make a silly remark, but as soon as she turns to look at him, she can't help but stopping and stare, with her breath dying into her throat.

If she thought that if was a vision for sore eyes the two children playing together like nothing was at all, she just decides she was wrong, because this… there's nothing that makes you feel better and happier than looking at Patrick Jane looking at those same children. The way he smiles, the light in his eyes, how he is captivated, they tell her everything she needs to know- that he is a good man, despite what he thinks of himself, that he used to be a great father, and that when he sees such a spectacle he understands that his quest for revenge and his thirst for blood are pointless, because they'll never bring _them _back, and because, secretly, he craves for this, for that again. Deep down, he wants to move on, deep down, he wants to have a family again, he wants to have a child who'll call him dad, and looking at him, she knows that he is just… he'd be ready, if not for.. for _that man._

"You know, I look around myself, and… there are so many possibilities, and… have you ever stopped, thinking about things that are, and things that may be? I mean, look at those two… If they'll get together, one day they'll make cute babies. I bet they'll have plenty of children. Dark haired with blue eyes, strong and charismatic and compassionate and sweet and caring like their cop mother. Or maybe they'll be blonde with their mother's green eyes, and they'll be as funny and smart but troublemakers as their daddy... because he causes always her so much paperwork, and she always needs to stay late at the office… but she still keeps him around, keeps him grounded, and he'll never stop loving her for this… because he may be a stubborn man, but he is pretty selfish and he does really love her, even if maybe he isn't ready to admit it at loud." He ends the sentence looking at her, and yet again the breath dies in Lisbon's throat, but this time for the opposite reason, this time it's because of a discovery, because of something she never thought could be. Because it's plain obvious that Jane isn't talking about the children any longer, but about two other people, two adults, about themselves…

Jane leaves, but only after having given her a small kiss on the corner of the mouth (it's not even lips on lips, but she knows he knows it still counts as a real kiss) and Lisbon, blushing like a school girl at her first crush, can't help but hoping that, in a couple of years' time, _that man _will no longer be. This way, maybe, the things she thought that would never be, will be able to, finally, be.


	16. Call

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Disclaimer: ok, wait a sec, let me check on my legal papers...no, it's not here, not even here, ah, wait, I got it! Uhm, nope, I don't own the Mentalist, just my season 1 dvds- season 2 set didn't come out here in Italy yet.

an: thanks everybody! I got few new readers and reviewers fro this one, and I'm so happy! I'm not sure how the updates will go on, because I'm currently working on a couple of ideas mentalist-related, but, still, if you have an idea, just pm me or leave a line into a review, I'll try to let you know what I can do about it!

A/N Recently, I've been having difficulties with ... in fact, I keep receiving the notificications from 3 to 4 days after they've been sent, both for your reviews and for the chapters updates, and so on. The guys in charge haven't been able to tell me if it depends on or my google acccount; their idea was to delete my account, but I've over 70 stories, and I'd hate to lose my favs, and, specially, your reviews. I tried to change e-mail account, hoping it will get better. if not, please, don't be amd If I don't come back to you as usual...

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I'd call you

As they were sitting on the chairs inside the medical facility, Jane's eyes fell on Lisbon's figure. He was looking with an hint of hidden amusement to the petite dark haired woman, and couldn't help feeling a bit guilty for the game he was playing- he was sure she wasn't going to let it go that easily, this time, even if… well, considering that she had asked him to swear on Charlotte's grave, one could say she had a suspicion about it. Well, if she had any, now they were gone. Her whole posture was screaming so many things, all bad… fear, anxiety, remorse, regrets. As she released a big breath, thinking about how she wasn't even going to get a real burial, Jane realized she had been thinking about her family. He had heard from sporadic discussions before, and now by her last will to Cho, that between the youngest Lisbon and the other two brothers it wasn't exactly running good blood, and for an instant he regretted what he had just done. He had added another preoccupation to such a wonderful and beautiful creature, a creature who… _wonderful and beautiful? Why did I just think that? Since when do I think of Lisbon in such a way?_

His eyes stopped for an instant on her lips, locked, dark red, full and apparently incredibly soft, and he realized that yes, Lisbon was indeed a beautiful creature- beautiful inside and out. He realized that it wasn't the first time this thought had crossed his mind- her figure had taunted him in his (sporadic but still incredibly beautiful and relaxing) dreams for longer than he cared to admit, and, recently (after Hardy) he had found himself wishing to be constantly with her. Of course, at first he had justified this telling himself he just wanted to protect her from his own world- and he was the only one who could do it, but, now… now this thought, this need seemed to find a new reason to exist, to be there in the first place.

_I am attracted by Lisbon, body and soul. _

It was weird, the mere thought of being attracted by a woman, for Jane. in the last six years, after the loss of his wife, he had denied himself any kind of physical gratification, he had did his best to deny the very existence of the other gender. He had been himself, for all means and purposes, genderless. Why feel pleasure, if she could no longer, if he could no longer feel it with her? It was simply behind any concept. It wasn't… it was simply impossible. It had been until now, at least.

Now he couldn't help but stare at those exquisite cherries and wonder… he closed his eyes, taking a big breath. He thought about Lisbon and her attraction for him (although he wasn't her usual type of man, he knew she was indeed sexually attracted by him, more than she could care to admit, and he knew she had been through some very intense M rated fantasies about the two of them and the office) and he wondered if, knowing (well, actually she was just _believing it) _she was dying she'd do anything about it. It was their last chance, after all- her last chance to act on her so-called feelings for him.

In an instant, he saw her looking at him with teary eyes, putting, scared and hesitant, a hand to cup his face. He placed his own hand on her small and warm one, she was shaking, because of the fear of her imminent death or because of the fear of rejection, he wasn't sure. She got closer and closer, and he couldn't help but gulp a little. He had to be honest there: he was scared as well. It was the first time he got that closer to a woman in so long… he had never considered kissing another woman while he was with Angela, either when they were kids and once married, and after her death, he had decided that he no longer cared about this kind of things. But, still, here he was, thinking about the fact that Lisbon was closing the gap between them, and that she was gently, but with great hesitation, leaving small kisses, almost bites, on the skin of his chin. His only thought was if she'd liked it when they would be kissing, if he still remembered at all how he was supposed to kiss a woman…

With her same hesitation, with dilated and dark eyes, he sued his right index to lift the woman's chin, forcing eye-contact. In seconds, they were both at closed eyes, though, and his tongue was skimming over those succulent cherries- and yes, they were as soft as he had imagined them to be. she parted her lips, allowing him entrance, and when he did, she started to, finally, answer to his kiss- even if she had been the one starting it, it had soon become a battle won by the man himself. Soon their tongues were tracing the insides of each other's mouth, and her hands were in his curls, gripping at them with such a sweet force he couldn't help but find it the most beautiful torture of the world. His hands, instead, were tracing through her clothes her whole being, and right now he didn't care if they weren't going to die and so he wasn't supposed to act on this attraction… it was like the beast in him had been awakened once again by the beauty in his arms, and he refused to put it back to sleep. She had been the one unleashing the animal, and now she was going to deal with it, the hell with the consequences. He no longer cared about them, if that was his only chance of tasting her, so be it.

Besides, how could he stop it when she was moaning into his mouth her appreciation while straddling him and undoing the buttons of pants while he was doing the same with her jeans, in order to lose just the essential and finally reach that contact they were both craving from each other since a long time?

"Jane?" He registered the use of his name, and he knew she was the one calling him, and he wondered how she could ménage it. Their lips were, after all, locked, so, either she was like one of those horrible puppets masters he remembers from his youth with the carnie and still gave him nightmares or there was definitely something odd going on.

"JANE!" she screamed, and soon, he found himself… he found himself yet again on those uncomfortable chairs in that medical facility, and Lisbon, sat on her chair, was looking at him like he was controlled by some paranormal entity. He looked around confused, and, casually, hoping she hadn't noticed it, his hands went, casually, to his laps, to cover a part of his anatomy that had been awakened in full force by his wondering and extremely realistic imagination- they hadn't make out in his chair, they hadn't tried to undress each other in order to have a quickie on said chair, he hadn't felt her lips, or discovered or her skin burned under his fingertips…

No, he had just imagined it, and, what was worst was that now that he had acknowledged the fact that said fantasy was there in the first place, he couldn't forget about it. Now he was going to dream of her naked even when awake. He definitely couldn't put the beast back to sleep.


	17. The past always repeats itslef

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Disclaimer: ok, wait a sec, let me check on my legal papers...no, it's not here, not even here, ah, wait, I got it! Uhm, nope, I don't own the Mentalist, just my season 1 dvds- season 2 set didn't come out here in Italy yet.

an: thanks everybody! I got few new readers and reviewers fro this one, and I'm so happy! I'm not sure how the updates will go on, because I'm currently working on a couple of ideas mentalist-related, but, still, if you have an idea, just pm me or leave a line into a review, I'll try to let you know what I can do about it!

a/n2: Jisbon lover, don't hate me, but this time, It's Grave/Craig/Wayne.. that's for Tromana on the jelloforever forum, even if this particular prompt was written for the meme on the mentalistpromts meme...

* * *

She has seen it.

25 years ago she was just a little girl, a baby girl even, but there are simply things you cannot forget, things that, maybe, just maybe, when you are four years old you don't understand, don't see, don't pay attention to, but here they are, and maybe, just maybe, one day you remember them all, you understand them all as they leave the back of your mind and you become conscious of the truth, of what you saw but didn't, couldn't understand. 25 years ago, she couldn't understand the cries and the tears of her mother, she couldn't understand what it meant when she talked about… stuffs while arguing and shouting with her father. At four years old, she couldn't understand what it meant being a woman who's been forced to get married at 17 with the high school quarterback because you've been so smart get pregnant with him, she couldn't understand what it meant giving up all you were hoping for to be a stay at home mum, while he graduated, go to university and one day, as he has always wished, becomes the couch of the team he has always wanted to lead; at four, you can't understand what it means looking at man who has married you because he has been forced to, because he never cared about you back then, and, certainly, he isn't caring about you right now since he is full of mistress and doesn't even try to deny it…

Back then, she hasn't lived it, but she has seen. That's why when she understands what's becoming of her life, she know what's waiting for her at the end of the tunnel.

She doesn't see it at first, but gradually (Mostly, she understands what's going on because she, so stupidly, still so childish, keeping comparing Craig to Wayne). It's in the small things, the details, in Craig not remembering what's her favorite flower is or what's her favorite cake, not understanding what kind of movies she likes, and so on. The small things, the details, things she repeats herself that don't matter at all.

Then, he is always busy when she is the one suggesting to pick a date for date night, and, when they ménage to go out, at the last minute there's always an impediment, something to do. He has never time for her, or to join her and her friends, even if, when she is the one who has to call things off, to tell him she already has something to do on that day, or doesn't feel like hanging out with his friends, she gets lectured by him, she gets the cold-shoulder treatment…. At the end, she always says yes to him, while his answers to her questions are always "no".

The next step is telling her what she is supposed to do, what she is supposed to say, who she is supposed to see. Craig doesn't like her going out with Wayne, even if it's just for work and there's always the rest of the team as well. He doesn't like her working late because this way ha can't know for sure where she is or whom she is with. He doesn't her going out on her own because he can't know who she'll see once there, what she could do once there. The funny thing is that she doesn't understand it at first, what he is doing. There's always this smile on his lips when he talks, he is always so sweet and worried, that she can't help but feeling not worth him, and can't help falling in love a little bit more every time his thumb skims over her lips and his eyes don't leave hers.

She ash live it, seen it, but yet, she can't accept it, can't remember it yet.

It's only when he hits her that she understands what is really going on, because he doesn't have any reason to. Quite the opposite, Craig should hold her, calm her down, be good with her, but Craig isn't there, Craig is never there for her. His carrier is more important than hers, his friends are more important than hers, everything is more important than her… he isn't there to calm her down while she cries out of fear, Wayne is, and when Craig, finally, arrives (because his boss has heard of it and told him to go, not because he felt like helping her out. why should he? He has heard the radio, she is fine, she is alive, what'd good is going to do to her joining her?) The only thing he does, the first thing he does, is separating them, sending Wayne on the soil, and then Grace, and then him, and her again… and his eyes, she can sees it, they are cold, they are empty, they are talking about hate and rage, and not about what she'd like to hear.

She'd like to hear about love and passion, about a bright future together, getting old together back home sharing everything, but she can't, she knows she will not, never, ever; deny it is pointless, and keeping this us, she'll just end up hurt furthermore, she'll end up trapped in something that will make her unhappy for the rest of her life, unable to escape for her own will and for the will of another one.

She has seen it, she has lived it, and she is living it. And it's time to wake up from this nightmare she calls a love-story before it's too late, before history would repeat itself, before she'll have to see a four years old hearing things she shouldn't and unable to understand them.


	18. I'll always save you

Disclaimer: ok, wait a sec, let me check on my legal papers...no, it's not here, not even here, ah, wait, I got it! Uhm, nope, I don't own the Mentalist, just my season 1 dvds- season 2 set didn't come out here in Italy yet.

an: thanks everybody! I got few new readers and reviewers fro this one, and I'm so happy! I'm not sure how the updates will go on, because I'm currently working on a couple of ideas mentalist-related, but, still, if you have an idea, just pm me or leave a line into a review, I'll try to let you know what I can do about it!.

* * *

I'M ALWAYS GOING TO SAVE YOU

(Allergic reaction – 794 words)

Close cases requires a special treatment, it can be pizza, it can be a drink, or take-out of any kind, to be consumed in the security of their office, in the afterhours, when nobody else is there.

This night is closed case Italian take-out.

"And so, here I am, telling this guy what he is supposed to do, and he looks at me from the upside down" Lisbon starts eating a bit of her risotto "and…Jane, why are you looking at me this way?"

Lisbon's gaze falls upon Jane's one, looking from her carton to her face, with a note of panic in his eyes, and before she could realize what's going on with him, under the eyes wide open of the team, Jane literally jumps on her. In a fraction of second, she finds herself falling from the chair to the cold pavement, with a panicking and scared Patrick Jane on top of her, and, in a fraction of second, he is putting his (soft, sexy, luxurious, tender) lips on hers, and his hands are on her chest, compressing it while his lips remain still if not to put air into her lugs.

Wait, he is…compressing her chest, not cupping her breasts or something like that? And why are his lips so still? That's not how it is supposed to be. His hands are supposed to cup her breasts to fully enjoy it and to harden her nipples so much that they'll hurt, they are supposed to be wandering, to explore her body, to feel her skin under the fabric of her blouse, his lips are supposed to move on her owns, and his tongue is supposed to tangle with her own, to explore her mouth, to lick her lips and to excite her and to drive her mad with desire and… he makes a move and then he bakes up?

He can forget about it. He started it, and now there will be hell to pay, in the form of a real kiss, with her mouth moving on his own, her tongue busy tangling with his answering one, exploring each other's mouth, licking each other's lips, while she first takes his hands putting them on her breast, allowing Jane to enter immediately in action, allowing him to (finally) cup them while fingering her nipples so much they hurt, and then they wander, and they feel her hot skin under the fabric of her blouse while the only thing she can do is running her fingers through his curls, and they are exciting each other and driving each other mad with desire over a close case take-out, and…

_Crap. Close case take out means that the team is there, looking at them and…and they are practically going at it like two horny teenagers under the eyes of her subordinates!_

"Jane… Jane…I think we should… I…I think we should…stop…" she tries to say as his lips moves south to taste her neck and her collarbone, while his fingers are trying to remove the hated piece of clothing that's not allowing him to see one of the only two things he wants to see right now.

"Mmm…don't think so, my dear" he answers between kisses on her collarbone, neck and mouth as well.

"But…the team…" she tries to fight, but, really, it's a lost battle, considering that the only sounds coming from her mouth are moans of pure pleasure and she isn't sure she'll be able to fight the ache between her thighs for too long.

"Gone as soon as I jumped on you"

"Jane, tomorrow morning the whole CBI will know that you jumped on me while having close case take-out…"

"Not my fault. Your lips were simply so…kissable. I had to do something about it. And I don't remember you complaining."

"We said we were supposed to have a hands-off policy at work! They weren't supposed to find out about us this way, because we're still in the honeymoon stage and can't keep our hands to each other!"

"Meh, I'll tell them you are allergic to shrimps…"

"I'm not"

"… and there was one in your risotto. I'll explain them how I was worried about you and decided to save you, even if it meant losing my virtue in the process, well aware that there was no way a hot-red blooded female could resist my charm once my body was pressed against hers."

"You know, you are such an idiot…"

"But I'm still your idiot" and with that, he comes back to kissing her, letting his wandering hands exploring her already well known body for what feels the first time but it's more like the 100th of the week…

"Jane, shout up and kiss me already!"

"Your whish is my command, my dear!"


	19. prompted drabbles all jane and Lisbon

hello people! It's been a long while since last time I've been here, and I beg your perdon. I've been busy, things, sometimes (many times) unpleasant things, happened, life got in the way, inspiration moved to other subjects at hand not concerning writing...

anyway, here we are with the next installment. this one, in particualr, is a collection of part of the drabbles (one fo them extended) that I wrote for the Mentalist propmpts drabble tag on livejournal, united here since they all are just a bit more than 100 words...

as always, I don't own the mentalist...

* * *

1. WHY? (Prompted by Tromana- ext. version)

She wasn't expecting to see him there, now, but, still, here he is, soul naked in front of her, pure, no lies, no manipulation for once, first time probably since she met him almost a decade before, the same eyes and yet so different.

Just them. In a church. Where she is supposed to get married in a matter of minutes. To a man who's not him.  
They don't talk. They barely look at each other. Then, he breaks the silence. Just one word, whispered, so quiet she wonders if he talked at all or if it was her imagination. "Why?"  
She doesn't say a word. Her answer, instead, is a lingering kiss on the corner of his lips, leaving immediately after to join the bridal party.

She hopes he'll understand, that he knows that it's too little, too late, that she cannot forgive and forget any longer, not after he promised to never hurt her just to go and kill a man in cold blood.

But, mostly, she hopes he'll understand that she can't risk her heart for something that could be another broken promise, his specialty, after all.

She isn't sure she would survive another one.

2. "Better never to have met you in my dream than to wake and reach for hands that are not there." (By Miss Peg)

Every night was the same thing. He would reach sleep, and then, the nightmares would come.  
He was an haunted man, his mind filled with images of what he saw in another life, in another night, of what he thought happened …  
Sometimes, though, he would dream of her, dark hair, cuddling at his side, in bed, happy, free, without a care, not Lisbon and Jane, but just Patrick and Teresa, two people in love.  
Then, he would wake up in his attic, in a makeshift bed. Alone. As it was supposed to be, because he was an haunted soul.

3. "I hope you prove me wrong. I doubt you will." - Madame Morrible, Wicked (by Tromana)

She always knew it was a mistake: he wasn't a one night stands kind of guy, but he wasn't looking for a relationship, even if he claimed so, believed so.  
(It was funny how much he worked to convince himself first that they could work.)  
Still, every time they had sex, she knew they were meant to fail, that she'd up with a broken heart, even if he kept promising her it was different, that he wasn't going to break her, that she could, had to trust him.  
But as much as he liked to sweet talk, she knew; his words were broken promises, didn't matter how much he believed them. She didn't. But she kept coming back to him anyway.  
Hope was the last die, even for her.

4. SOME THINGS ARE WORTH WAITING FOR (By Tromana)

At the end, everything played as he had whished, as he had planned. Only, much more better. He had never thought he'd be free, at the end of their little game of cat and mouse, but he was.  
Free in his body. Free in his mind, his soul, if he ever had one. what a strange concept, something he had never really thought about. He had never thought about anything past killing Red John if he had to be honest.  
He takes a big breath, enjoying the breeze on his skin the first instant out of jail. Someone at his side asks him if he is okay. He smiles and looks at the landscape in front of him, nodding.  
Free, at least.

5. A LIE CANNOT LIVE (By Miss Peg)

His twin sister Stella looks at him with stars into her eyes, while he is just… scared, while andLisbon is confused, unaware of what's going on.  
"Oh, Pat… She is so lovely! I can understand why you never listened to me about dating, having her around! She is so cute… she seems a fairy! " he starts sweating, while Lisbon is boiling with anger. She understands. And no one can call her cute. Or fairy. Jane encircles her with his arms, and tries to kiss her. something she doesn't appreciate too much, given the slap.  
"I can't believe you told me she was your girlfriend!" with Lisbon gone and Stella running away in tears, all he does is sitting on his couch and massaging his face


End file.
